


Life Line

by Jade_Williams



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Bartender Mickey Milkovich, Distance, Domestic Ian Gallagher, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Domestic Mickey Milkovich, EMT Ian Gallagher, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Featuring the endless nicknames Mickey has for Ian, Fiona and Ian will sort out their shit, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Foreshadowing, Frank is a douche, Gallavich, How many times can I write the word fuck, Humor, I fixed the plot for you guys, I love my boys more than I love myself, I'm sorry in advanced, Ian Gallagher Redemption, Ian and Mickey deserved better, Is Ian okay?, M/M, Mickey Milkovich redemption, Plot Fix, Profanity, Season nine does not exist, Sibling Rivalry, Slight Alternate Universe, Slow Burn, Smoking, Subplots, The usual shameless drama, There's a recurring duck, Things will all be okay at the end... mostly, Wakes & Funerals, Weddings, drug dealers, not everything is as it seems, post season eight, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-08-02 07:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 89,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16300871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade_Williams/pseuds/Jade_Williams
Summary: "As we all know, Illinois and many states like us have been faced with corruption. Many innocent lives have been put behind bars for incorrect or unnecessary charges. Our people have been running from the law because they are terrified. It's time to change that. After a long conversation that has stretched over the past three months, the board and the president of the United States has come to a decision."For four years, Mickey Milkovich has lived his life in Mexico... in hiding and with a family that cares about him. However, when he finds out he can come home he immediately takes the chance. Back in the South Side, life has moved forwards and Ian Gallagher has faced a number of challenges and one of those challenges nearly took his life. When it comes time for the two of them to finally see each other again after all of the time that has passed, their worlds come clashing together in some of the most violent ways and everything they thought they wanted in life fades away. Through Mandy's meddling, horrific events that threaten their lives, and unplanned surprises... is it possible for Ian and Mickey to set aside their differences and allow themselves to fall in love once again?





	1. In His Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian struggles to continue living in his house months after an incident that put him and Fiona at war. He thinks back on his life and although he has come to accept his mistakes, that does not mean he hates them any less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLOT CHANGES:  
> *This story was written before season nine aired, so anything that happened(s) in season nine is not canon.  
> *I changed how most of the Gay Jesus shit went down... Ian made the right choice and walked away from it after the van explosion. He went to prison for the van explosion, but only for a few months.  
> *Lip's Drinking: The poor guy stopped attending AA, but will go back to it sometime later in the story once he realizes what drinking is doing to him. He also went back to school. Don't worry. I'm not going to let him suffer.  
> *The rest of the changes are subtle, but notable. To prevent giving away too many spoilers, I'll let you all read the story to find out what changed.
> 
> AUTHOR NOTE: I absolutely have a deep love for foreshadowing so keep your eyes peeled. I leave little hints for what's to come all over the place. ;)
> 
> ...I also have a small obsession with Mickey's really name (Mikhailo)... so it's used quite a bit... and I'm really sad it was not used more in the show... so I'm kind of compensating for my pain by finding ways for it to be used in this fic....

**March**

He would not be the first to admit that things have not gone the way he planned.

            “Oh, fuck. Dude, run!”

            With half an empty carton of a dozen eggs held tightly in his hand, Ian takes off in a sprint down the uneven sidewalk with his little brother keeping up beside him. An angry man steps out to his cluttered porch, wearing nothing more than a stained pair of blue stripped boxers and with a shotgun held in his hand. He yells after them, threatening to call the cops for what they have done to his house. Laughing, Ian tosses the eggs into a dumpster he passes and he keeps running until Carl skids to an abrupt stop. Carl leans against a brick wall that probably has a hundred years’ worth of grime plastered on it in the darkened alleyway. Stopping himself, Ian looks back over his shoulder to make sure the coast is clear.

            Huffing, he leans forward and plants his hands on his knees. A cool breeze blows past him and it feels good on his warm skin, but he could not care less for the smell that it brings with it. Nobody has touched the nearby trashcans for weeks. Looking over to his brother, Ian grins and nods his head down to the main street from which they ran from.

            “Are you fucking satisfied or are we gonna have to do this shit again?” He asks.

            Carl throws his head back against the wall and laughs loudly. “Nah, that’ll teach that prick not to mess with Debbie at work,” he replies confidently. “He’ll be cleaning eggs off of his house for months.”

            Shaking his head, Ian stands up straight and from his back pocket he pulls his phone out to check the time. Panicked, he widens his eyes. It’s much later than he thought. “Shit, we gotta get back to the house,” he says. “Fiona will be back soon and I think she’ll actually kill you if she finds out Lip and I let you sneak out again. She might kill  _all_ of us.”

            To their left, a familiar face rides up to them on his loud, roaring motorbike that is well overdue for a tune-up. Carl pretends to jump out in front of him, making Lip swerve out of the way and nearly hit the brick wall. Cursing loudly, Lip cuts the engine and plants his foot firmly onto the ground in hardly enough time before impact. 

            “Stay out of the way fuckhead,” he warns. “I’m not taking you back to the fucking hospital because I ran over your foot.”

            Carl flips off his eldest brother, sticking his tongue out as if he is a little kid again. Ian rolls his eyes, stretching his right arm over his chest.

            “What’s going on? I thought you were watching Franny?” Ian asks curiously.

            “Yeah, I was until Debbie called saying Fiona is on the way home like an hour early. I got Liam watching her,” Lip explains. “You two need to get back before she does. She’ll kill you if she finds out you let Carl egg Mr. Juggins’ house again and she does  _not_ need another reason to get on your ass.” He then throws a bike helmet to Carl, who catches it with ease.

            With wide eyes, Ian does not waste another second. The last thing he needs is for Fiona to get more ammunition to use against him. He takes off down the way Lip came, listening to the sound of the bike’s engine coming back to life as he sprints. Breathing heavily, he jumps over a couple of his neighbor’s fences and he skillfully slips through the hole in Kev and Veronica’s fence – that definitely was not made by him and Lip many years ago – to find himself standing in his own cluttered backyard. From the front of the house, he can hear the sound of Fiona’s car door slamming shut and from what he can tell, she’s not alone tonight. Cursing under his breath, he climbs up the stack of boxes and old toys Carl crafted in order to easily slip in and out of the second story bathroom window. He and Ian both thought it would be easier than free falling each and every time they need a quick way out of the house. 

            Unfortunately, when he reaches the top, he discovers that the window is both shut and securely locked.  _Carl is a fucking idiot._ Sighing, he begins to look for another way to get in from where he stands. Liam, hearing the suspicious voices coming from outside the bathroom widow, pokes his head into the doorway. Ian gasps and stares gesturing down to the latch that prevents him from getting in. Liam rolls his eyes and pushes the latch upwards, shoving the window open.

            “You better hurry,” he warns. “Fiona is coming.”

            Scrambling, Ian forces his much too large body in through the tight window and clumsily climbs to his feet. From behind him, Carl crawls in next with the same level of gracefulness. Only, he does not stick to a landing quite like Ian managed to. Falling hard with a heavy thud onto the cheap floor tiles, he groans. To cover their strictly prohibited tracks, Ian rushes to close and latch the window just as Lip falls through. Landing on top of Carl, the two Gallagher brothers curse and shove at each other.

            “Get the fuck off of me, Lip,” Carl complains under the heavy weight of his brother.

            Shoving off of him, Lip leaps up and takes a quick seat on the closed toilet seat lid. Ian looks around before plopping down on the edge of the bath tub. He knows it’s not the most inconspicuous thing to be doing, but they’re out of time. Rolling his eyes, Carl stays on the ground as Liam grabs for his toothbrush. Fiona stops walking at the sight of the scene in the bathroom, put off by the sight of all of her brothers crammed into a single room. The bathroom, of all places. 

            “Uh… Jimmy and I are gonna stay here tonight,” she says cautiously. Why would they all be in the bathroom? “Thanks for making sure nothing blew up, Lip.”

            Seeing no real reason to stay in the room now that he knows they will not be getting yelled at, Ian gets up and slips right passed his sister. Fiona looks after him and runs a hand through her hair, her face woven with sadness.

            “Ian, wait,” she calls softly.

            Raising an eyebrow, Ian stops and turns on his heel. “What do you want?” He asks bitterly.

            Fiona frowns at his tone, a little disappointed to hear it so hostile. “Where are you going? Don’t you want to have dinner with us?” She asks.

            Ian shakes his head and gestures to the ticking clock on the wall. “I gotta go handle some shit before work so I don’t show up late,” he reminds her. “I can’t give then any reason to fire me thanks to you.”

            Fiona flinches, but she surrenders and Ian walks off. What he said was a partial lie, but he could care less. He does have to be at work soon, but there’s not actually a single thing he needs to handle before then. Earlier in the day, he handled the shopping he needed to do and he already went to the bank to deposit money into his savings account. Truth be told, he only said what he did to get out of the house and away from his family. Sighing, he waves to Jimmy who waves back a little awkwardly. Neither of them knows how to act around each other. Grabbing his house keys from the wall, Ian flees out through the backdoor and into the night for the second time. As he walks down the creaking steps, he realizes he has no idea where he wants to go.

            Shoving his hands deeply into the pockets of his jeans, he looks down the street and twists his mouth off to the side. He couldn't care less where he ends up. Picking a random direction, he starts walking away from the Gallagher house and further into the night. Eventually, he finds himself at the bleachers of the high school. Most of the time, it’s not a conscious decision to come here. He somehow always finds himself here. Shaking his head, he plops down on the dusty ground and he scoots until his back meets one of the bars. It feels strange to be here tonight and he’s not sure why tonight, of all nights, has to feel different. There’s a feeling in the put of his stomach, one that makes him feel sick and uneasy.

            “Fuck…” he breathes.

            Leaning his head back, he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to will the feeling away with the sheer force of his mind. It doesn’t work and he hates himself for it. He, of course, knows what this feeling is. It has only terrorized him for months now. Breathing in deeply through his nose, he opens his eyes again and looks up at the dirty underside of the bleacher’s seats. He can count sixteen pieces of chewed gum and six half-smoked blunts from where he sits. It’s funny to him how something so simple can be so intriguing to him. Kids chewed that gum and he could probably name every single person who smoked those blunts. Disregarding the idea, Ian closes his eyes again.  _Just breathe._

            Growing up as a Gallagher has always been hard, but something about it becomes all the more challenging when a mental disorder is thrown into the mix of bad genes and shitty parenting. For as long as he can remember, he always had some form of plan for everything he did. There was always an organized way to do things and he had ambitions that would have taken him farm in life if he had stuck with them. Life had other plans, though. One thing after another took his life away until there was absolutely nothing left for him. He lost everything right down to the one person who has ever truly loved him for who is, crazy or not. Back when it was a constant struggle to feel normal, it pissed him off to think that his life would always be that way even though that was never truly the case.

            He never truly knows when he’s going to slip up and forget to take his medication. Hell, he can never predict when his next episode will show up regardless if he’s taking his medication or not. He’s fucked either way. Over the years, he has adopted to play this game because in his failures, it ruined parts of his life that he could never get back. At the start of it all, he pushed away the one person who always did what he fucking could to take care of him because he  _hated_ the idea of needing help. He wanted nothing to fucking do with it. He tore apart his family in his psychotic breaks and he, somehow, became the person he never wanted himself to be. Unloving, uncaring, and unfaithful.

For a long time, he hated he was. There was not a single part of his mind that could separate who he was from his disorder even though he had gone through the trouble to accept what had happen to him. He blew up vans, lied to his lovers… he was no longer the Ian Gallagher he wanted or knew himself to be. He had become a completely unrecognizable stranger to himself and to those around him. It was terrifying for him to think that there was no turning back. He was stuck and he saw no way out.

            As the years have gone by, he has collected a plethora of guilt to carry around on his shoulders. He felt that the events that took place in his life were entirely his fault because of how he chose to act. He pushed Mickey away and left him at the border to go on with his life completely alone, he was the reason so many kids had hope only for him to walk away when it became entirely too much, and he was a destructive force that fought to do as it pleased. It was not long before the guilt ate him up and he lost control. A little over a year ago, he stopped taking his meds. It took him two whole days for him to realize his mistake only when he went to get his pills from the medicine cabinet, he discovered that Frank had sold it all for some quick cash to pay off his tab at the Alibi. Ian took it as a sign and that is, inevitably, where his downward spiral began even though he was trying to fight it. He went from accepting his Bipolar disorder to resenting it all over again.

            Nobody realized what was happening. They were all too caught up in their own crazy and sometimes law fighting lives to notice that their brother was losing his mind in every single way possible. Ian was alone for the majority of it and he used the time he had to review Mickey’s legal case because the guilt he felt for never being there for it was eating him alive, he worked out as much as he could to keep himself in the best shape he could possibly be in, and he wallowed in his self-destructive rage that put him through more mood swings than he could count. Though, it was not long before the depression set in and that’s when his older brother, Lip, realized what was happening.  
  
            When he figured out the full story, he was ready to kill Frank for selling the pills. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do and it made him nauseous to think his little brother had been running around without his medication for four consecutive months. On the final night, Ian was tired and he was ready to give up. He missed Mickey, he hated the things he had done, and he was sick of dealing with the disorder that took over his life so suddenly. It had been the worst six months of his life. Had Lip not shown up at time, he would have made a mistake that he could never take back.

            It's a dark spot for him to go back to. Pulling himself out of the cloud of his looming thoughts, Ian reaches for his phone in his pocket. Waiting for him on his screen is a single text message from an unknown number. He has to read it a couple of times to realize a mistake he made. With the massive tangle of events his life has become, it’s difficult to keep track of the important issues.

 

> **From _Unknown_ :  
>  Hey, baby. Are we still on for tonight?  
>  Been thinking about you since the bar.**

             Ian cringes. He forgot he had another hookup set up for tonight. In fact, he can’t even remember who this person is because he was not smart enough to save their contact with a name. However, he never would have been able to go through with this hookup anyways. He has to work soon. Sighing, Ian types a quick reply and returns his phone to his pocket. That was not the distraction he was looking for.

 

> **To _Unknown_ :  
>  Sorry, something came up.  
>  Maybe another time?**

            Sitting on the ground, he realizes a few insignificant details that are having an absolute party inside of his head. Not only is his bed much too small for him back at home and his family has become way too crazy to manage, but everything in his life feels like it is moving in slow motion. Yes, he wants to get out of his house so badly that it hurts, but what is he supposed to do after that? Continue to search for love that he is not going to find and live the life of a hermit? The idea of that alone makes his stomach churn. He doesn’t want to be alone. He misses the life he had before it went to shit. No matter what people thought of her, he misses Mandy and he misses his fucked up ex-boyfriend who always bent over backwards for him.  
  
            He knows he can always try, though. He can try to live his best life and he can try to get out there and see what the world has to offer. If he has to get a creepy ass roommate to get that done, he will. At this point, he is willing to do anything to get out of his current state of life. Everything has fallen into a tiring cycle of repetition and it making him feel like he’s going crazy on the inside. No matter what, he is going to get out and he is going to live the life he feels he is meant to live. He owes himself that much and that is exactly what he is going to do if time permits. He does not need other people to live his life. After everything he has been through, he does not need love and he certainly does not need somebody constantly breathing down his neck to make sure he’s still sane. At this point, he is no longer codependent. He is his own person now and he is free to lead his own life.

             Dragging his left hand down his face, Ian holds his cigarette in his fingers and watches as it burns away. He needs to quick smoking before it causes him serious health problems down the road. Sighing, he redirects his gaze out on the quiet neighborhood. Not a sound can be heard tonight, as rare at that is. Usually somebody is having a wild party or there is a domestic disturbance happening that would normally need somebody to call the police. Not tonight, though. Only he and Lip are home as everyone else is out doing their own thing with friends or a significant other. Being alone has given him some time to clear his mind. He feels better than what he did the night before. In the rare moments where he can get out and have a little fun –egging houses, for example – it's absolutely liberating. He spent many years taking happiness for granted. When he's feeling it, it's the best feeling in the world. He can laugh and have the time of his life with the people his loves and there is not a drop of stress to ruin it.  
  
            “Dude, did you hear about this huge political thing going down in the white house?” Lip asks as he bounds into their shared room with his laptop balancing on his arm.  
  
            Ian looks away from the open window that blows in chilly air with a stolid expression on his face. He’s supposed to be getting rest before he has to go to work later tonight, but the thoughts nagging on his brain has him wide awake. “Since when do you give a damn about the politics in the white house?” He asks.  
  
            “No, this is different. This shit has blown up around campus. It looks like they’re going to finally address the corruption problem in law enforcement. Some of it, at least. It seems pretty serious from what I can tell,” Lip explains as he plops down on the edge of Ian’s bed.  
  
            Confused, Ian twists around to face his older brother. He has yet to hear of such activities and that’s saying something considering he spends a lot of his time watching the news. “Are you sure?" He asks. "You know how they make that shit look real and then decide it’s not actually worth the effort.”

Lip nods with mild excitement and points to the article he has pulled up on his screen with various highlighted notes. He must be looking into this for a class back at school. “Yeah, man. They’re opening a huge investigation. If they find any judges or cops that have been under the influence of any kind of corruption, they will fired, pressed with charges, and all the recent cases under their jurisdiction will be reviewed.”  
  
            Ian has no idea what to say. When he heard Lip coming into their room, he was not expecting for them to talk about something relatively normal for once. Having ordinary conversations are something of a scarcity. Half of the time, it’s about Ian’s guilt or a hook up he had recently. Occasionally they will talk about Lip’s love life, but that only happens when Lip finds enough time to actually go on a date or find somebody to hook up with. He’s in a constant state of being busy between school, work, and checking in on Ian.  
  
            “So... some cases could be overturned, then? They’re basically going to look at cases and see if an alternate verdict is needed?” Ian asks as he extinguishes his cigarette on the ash tray that sits on the windowsill.  
  
            “I would think so. If they find a case and it's completely bogus or not worth their time… they could very well throw it out. Why waste resources when there are bigger problems going on in the world, right?” Lip agrees with a nod.  
  
            This news is almost unsettling to Ian. Only on rare occasions does a political movement like this actually go anywhere substantial, especially in places like the South Side, Chicago. Nothing good ever comes their way and if it does, it has better chances of getting trashed than doing what it was made to do. That’s the game, though. Like a board game, the government is the players and the people are the pawns.  
  
            “I wonder if it’ll actually do anything,” Ian states as he runs a hand through his hair that needs to be cut. As it continues to grow, the tips of it have started to develop natural curls. He’s not too fond of it and he has no idea where it is coming from. Monica’s hair was never all that curly and although he’s not too sure on who his biological father is out of Frank’s brothers, he doubts their hair gets curly too.  
  
            Lip shrugs as he closes the lid to his laptop and kicks off his tattered shoes that were once crisp white. “I guess we’ll see. Hey, did you ever go on that date with what’s-his-face? The guy with the blue streaks in his hair?”  
  
            Ian laughs and props himself up against the wall with all of his collected pictures from his life growing up on it. He recently added pictures of him and Mickey on that wall. There were not too many for him to use considering Mickey was the one who kept all the hard copies, but he used what he had. “You mean Anthony? Yeah… We skipped the date part and just fucked in the back of his car.”  
  
            “You always skip the dates, man. How was it, then? Was it any good?” Lip questions as he pulls his shirt up and over his head.  
  
            There is a lot of truth in what Lip said. More often than not, Ian finds it almost impossible to sit through a date. He can never find anyone worth his time and most of the dates he has attempted to go on felt wrong and unnatural to him. For a while, he thought he was broken. If so many people around him go on dates, why can’t he? It’s a question that still lingers in the back of his mind, but he has since moved on from the thought. If he can’t find the right person to date, he’ll skip over that part and get to the only thing that makes sense. Sex.  
  
            “It was pretty alright. He scratched the fuck out of my back and his car was full of stuffed owls that kept fucking staring at me while we were doing it,” Ian recalls with a look of discomfort on his face. He would not be surprised if that experience made him develop an irrational fear of owls.

Lip starts to laugh helplessly. Out of all of his brother’s hookups that have occurred over the years, he has yet to hear something that like. It amazes him how many different kinds of guys Ian has flown through. “That’s impressive. Think you’ll see him again? Did he rub you the right way? If you know what I mean,” he asks suggestively.  
  
            Ian’s face turns sour as he attempts to even consider it in his mind. “Did you not hear me about the stuffed owls? They were real owls, Lip. Their glassy eyes were watching me. I’m pretty sure that was some of the most uncomfortable sex I have had.”  
  
            With a need to start winding down on his last night before he heads back to campus, Lip climbs up to his bed and slides to the edge so he can still talk to his brother. “Yeah? What about Jared? Didn’t he try to fuck you in an outhouse?”  
  
            “Fucking hell. Can we not mention that ever again? It was awful and I barely got out of there with my pants on. He was horny all of the damn time,” Ian recalls with disgust.  
  
            “Look who’s talking,” Lip taunts.  
  
            Raising his hand, Ian flips his brother off for making a low blow joke. “Fuck off.”  
  
            Still laughing, Lip falls flat on his back and Ian eases himself down to do the same. For all the dates and hook ups he has been on, none of them have satisfied him. Most of them left him feeling empty inside while the rest made his skin crawl. He hopes one day someone will come along and that man will be right for him, but it’s going to be a long while before that happens. He has the luck of being a Gallagher. Nothing ever goes the way they plan.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW NOTES!
> 
> Hello and welcome. My name is Jade and I am probably the most dyslexic person you will ever meet because I never sleep and always, ALWAYS, thrive on caffeine. If you are interested, feel free to follow my personal Tumblr (@screechingpaperclipcollection) OR you can follow my brand new Tumblr blog specifically for writing (@jadewilliamsinthecorner) where I will be posting updates about the stories that I write... As soon as I update the banner. I'm currently a broke college student getting a degree in the media arts, but that's enough about me! Onto the story... 
> 
> This story is currently under construction, but I will resume writing ASAP (See last updated Author Note for details). Seeing that Noel is coming back for s10 has motivated me once again to finish this story and I plan on doing just that one way or another. 
> 
> Because I took German in high school, I do not speak Spanish. I'm telling you this because there WILL be Spanish in this story. All of my translations will be done through Google Translate which, I know, isn't the best way to get translations. ALL English translations will be in the end notes of that given chapter. There will not be a TON of Spanish in this story, but keep a lookout nonetheless. 
> 
> With all of that said, please enjoy this story as I have put a metric fuck ton of work into it! 
> 
> #GallavichendgameFUCKERSSS!
> 
> NOTE: Any hate will be promptly removed. I do not tolerate it nor do I wish to have it plastered on my story. I believe fandoms are meant to be a place for kindness, not hate. Take your hate elsewhere. I'm not interested.
> 
> SEASON NINE SPOILER: my dudes... we got Gallavich END GAME!!! As happy as I am that it happened after everything Ian and Mickey have gone through, this story is an alternative. This is a story where everything goes mostly right and a story in which our boys get what they deserve. I hope you enjoy it :) 
> 
> -Jade Williams


	2. His Life Where it Remains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey struggles with his will to keep pushing forward when he sees no realistic goal waiting for him. After spending four years in Mexico and three years with a family who took him in, he has grown tired and wants nothing more than to live a normal life. Thanks to Gemma, the daughter of the family, he receives a pretty powerful lecture and finally learns how to swim.

**August**

As the sun sets over the small town, Mexico’s nightlife comes out of hiding.

            Mickey watches the people in front of him with tired eyes. They never bother to look at him twice and most of those who pass by hardly notice the tragic truth that he fights to keep hidden. He may stand proudly in the shadows where he feels the safest, but his life is slipping away from him. Closing his eyes for a single moment, he takes one last drag from his burning cigarette before smashing it on a nearby worn cinder block. He carelessly flicks the butt of it into the street for it to be trampled underneath the feet of the people who run and dance up and down the street with smiles plastered on their faces. He should really try to quit the damn things, but it's a problem for another day. Given the impossible path of life he has been thrust into, there is entirely too much on his plate. Deep down, he wishes he could have been born into another family. A family that came with stable parents who loved each other and siblings that actually gave a damn about where he ended up in life. He would do anything to have that life.

            As a kid, he always thought about how he would be the one out of his family to defer from the Milkovich ways. He wanted to grow up and start a family of his own where he could be happily married and having kids that know that they are loved; which is more than anything he was given. As fate would have it, his life could not have taken a bigger turn in the most opposite direction. Contrary to what he wanted, he took the Milkovich life by the throat and embedded it into his core fundamentals. He fell in love with a boy, he fought against the law, and all of his dreams and wishes came crashing down when he found himself in Mexico. He could never live the life he wants now. Nobody cares about the white boy with a broken heart. Nobody ever truly did back home and that’s how it will always be. He's alone.

            For the first year, being in Mexico was hard. He knew nobody and he had absolutely nowhere to go. He struggled every day with the language barrier, even though he took the time to teach himself some Spanish, and on most nights, he would be lucky to find a quiet part of a rundown town to sleep on. He got in trouble more times than he would like to admit and it has occurred to him that he seems to have a natural talent for it. It bothers him to think if he had chosen to not steal the food he got in trouble for, he probably would have starved to death by now. It was not until the first year was over that his life began to change for the better. He had picked up quite a bit of basic Spanish and, by some random stroke of good luck, he walked into a bar that took away a lot of the hardships he was dealing with at the time. That’s where he met Antonio, his wife Carla, and their kind spirited daughter Gemma, who took it upon herself to teach him more Spanish.

            They looked after him and gave him a place to sleep because, much to his surprise, they help people in his situation all the time. For lack of a better word, he was shocked when they took him down to the basement to show him all of the resources that they have gathered over the years. Their empire is huge and it has saved many lives, even if it’s completely illegal. However, they do not help every fugitive who comes through their bar. If he wanted their help, he had to prove himself and explain his legal troubles. Desperate for the aid, he started working around their bar and he sat through all of the lessons Gemma was offering for him. He needed their trust and he eventually earned it. Nobody, in all of their years of running their business, has worked as hard as the white American boy.

            For a while, he always assumed that Carla hated him. Her husband, Antonio, was always cheery and often spoke in the place of his wife when Carla was not around. He could not understand why Carla would not speak to him until he later learned her story. Carla was attacked many years ago by a group of gang members who severely damaged her vocal chords. Ever since Antonio told her story, things became much better between them. Three years into the future and Mickey is still under their care. Not a day goes by where he is not thankful for their existence and their willingness to help a scrappy young boy who skipped the border to run away from the problems that he, mostly, unintentionally created.

            With sorrow in his eyes, a dirty elderly man whose clothes hang loosely on his malnourished body walks up to Mickey with unsteady legs that threaten to collapse at any given moment. Mickey, at first, has a strong compulsion to tell him to walk the fuck away, but he bites it back. He knows better than to judge a book by its cover by now. The elderly man looks at him with tired eyes and he slowly lifts a dry, cracked, shaky hand.

            "¿Puede ahorrar cualquier cambio, señor?" He asks with a scratchy voice.

            The question makes his heart ache. He knows what it feels like to be dirty, hungry, and alone. His entire life could easily be categorized into one of those three slots on any given day. Without another thought about it, he reaches into his pocket and gives the elderly the only cash he has on him. "Gasta eso en algo que vale la pena, ¿quieres?" He advises the old man warmly.

            "Gracias buen señor. Gracias," the man says with a toothless smile.

            Mickey nods his head curtly once and as the old man walks off, he notices how the man goes directly to the first food truck he sees to purchase something filling for his stomach. He sighs and rests his head against the dusty brick wall, his head pounding. Life is slow here, but it has taught him a lot. He's still the hard-ass South Side boy that everybody knows, loves, and hates… but he has also learned to be more open to people. If he had it on him, he probably would have given the man more because at least he has a roof on his head and food waiting for him if he wants it. He may be living in another country, but he's fortunate and he knows it.

            Leaning up against the wall, he continues to watch people as they run up and down the street with sparklers and musical instruments in their hands. He comes out here almost every night to watch the people have the best night of their lives as if it was their last. He often claims it's better for him to be out here rather than be inside where his thoughts can eat away at him.  He does think about home a lot whether he wants to admit it or not. It may have been hell, but he misses it. He misses the snow and he misses being able to do whatever the hell he wanted when he felt like it. There are, of course, more complicated things that he misses. He wouldn't dare open that can of worms in such a public place. He can barely tolerate it when he’s on his own. The South Side left him with plenty of emotional scars. He’s damaged.

            Swiftly pushing away from the wall, Mickey wonders aimlessly towards the sound of the ocean. He has spent a lot of time out on the beach and he has deemed it as his favorite spot to hang out at during the night. Carla has caught him numerous of times sneaking out of the basement to get out to the beach while everyone else is sleeping. More often than not, she would join him because even she could tell that all he needed was a friend during his period of adjustment. When she would sign to him asking why he likes it out there, he would tell her because it’s quiet and no longer unbearably hot. While that may have been the truth, he also secretly comes out because it brings him peace. Peace has been hard to find lately.

            From his stash that he keeps hidden behind a bunch of rocks and a pile of sand, Mickey unearths a bottle of beer and a bottle opener. He eases himself back down to the ground and from his pocket, he draws out an image that has been with him ever since her crossed the border. He hates that he has let himself continue to be so pathetic, but he cannot help it. Sometimes, this image is the only thing that keeps him going when the life around him grows complicated. It’s his only reminder of home and it’s powerful. Every time he looks at this image, he is sent back to the night it was taken. It was a time when things made sense and a time when he was truly happy. He misses it more than anything.

            "Esta es la tercera vez que te atrapo aquí, Mikhailo," a woman says from his near right.

            Mickey looks up from the image, spotting Gemma coming his way. She wears a floral wrap shirt around her waist to cover up her swim suit bottoms and her messy curly hair has been pinned up in a lazy bun. She seems concerned to see him out here again, but no more than usual. Everyone knows by now that he enjoys his time alone.

            "¿Qué tal un poco de inglés por una vez, sí?" Mickey asks awkwardly.

            Gemma smiles as she plops down beside Mickey and she grabs for one of the beers he keeps hidden in his stash. Had she been anyone else, he would have complained and probably threatened them, but he has come to like Gemma over the years. Hell, he absolutely adores her and the women she has grown into. She’s the closest thing he has to a friend even though she is a handful of years younger than him. When he arrived, she was fifteen years old. Though, she was the toughest fifteen-year-old around and he soon came to the realization that Gemma reminds him of Mandy. He often wonders where his sister has ended up after all this time. Wherever she is, he hopes she is safe and got her herself somewhere she could be happy. That's all he has ever wanted for her.

            "Lo siento. You've been doing so well with your Spanish that I almost always forget that you are a native English speaker,” she apologizes sweetly.

            Mickey scoffs and gestures to his skin. "My white ass skin didn't give that away?"

            Gemma smiles and playfully throws some sand at Mickey. "Stereotypes, chico. You mustn’t rely on them,” she scolds. “What brings you out here tonight?"

            “Got a lot of shit on my mind. Carla had a really long talk with me last night about making traditional Mexican food. I think she was trying to distract me. I’m pretty sure your mom can read minds or some shit,” Mickey says with a shrug.

            Gemma brushes some of the sand that stuck onto her wet feet away with a soft smile on her lips. "My momma always seems to know when people are hurting, but I do not think mind reading is what enables her to know. Believe it or not, she knows when people are hurting because she has been in your place before," She says sweetly.

            "I'm not fucking hurting," Mickey denies scornfully. He won’t even welcome the idea that he could possibly be hurting now that he has been away from home for four years. At some point, he has to draw the line and move on from his past… right?

            Gemma gives a knowing look to the boy beside her. She has heard his deflections and rejections for years now and she knows when he is lying about something as small as his emotions. He has become an easy book for her to read. "Is that why you carry around a picture in your pocket and look at it when you believe nobody is looking, Mikhailo?"

            He almost hates how observant she is. For years he has tried to avoid people asking about the photo and his history, all except Carla, but it seems Gemma is just like her mother. They’re both freaky mind readers and he knows it. “It's nothing,” he snaps. “It's just a fuckin' photo. It’s not important, alright?”

            Gemma is doubtful and because she trusts her relationship with Mickey enough, she reaches over and yanks the photo from his pocket as he desperately tries to snatch it back. Unfolding it, Gemma examines the image and her heart basically drops into her stomach. She expected a photo of home or of the sister he talks so much about when he’s drunk, but this is something more.

            "You were once in love, Mikhailo?" She asks sadly.

            While his cheeks flame red with embarrassment, Mickey snags the image back and returns it to its rightful place in his pocket. "I told you... It's nothing," he snaps.

            She wants to ask about the red-haired boy who he was smiling at in the picture as they hold melting ice cream in their hands, but she knows better than to push Mickey when he does not want to be pushed. The two of them have hardly ever fought and she would like to keep it that way. Their bond remains stronger that way. "You are very strong. I do hope you know that."

            Mickey scoffs and lowers his eyes to Gemma's legs. "Yeah, but you've been through hell and back," he comments while gesturing to the prosthetic leg that she keeps hidden underneath the A-symmetrical floral skirt.

            Gemma moves the skirt off to the side a little to reveal the leg she has been walking on ever since she turned sixteen. She smiles because it's not often that people recognize her bravery and what she went through. The memory of when she lost her leg is a painful one, but she will never forget what Mickey did for her. He always dropped everything to help her get around and he helped her learn to walk on her new leg. In fact, he helped pay for it without any shreds of doubt.

            "I fought cancer, yes, but you have been through so much. I have heard your story, Mikhailo. You lived a terrible life,” she says wearily.

            "It wasn't all bad," Mickey corrects mindlessly.

            "And the photo you keep proves that. Never doubt your worth. Based on that photo alone, I know that boy still thinks about you. There was a love between you that I have only seen between my momma and papa," Gemma offers kindly.

            “I was a shitty ass boyfriend. He deserved more than what I could ever give him," Mickey mumbles mostly to himself.

            Gemma’s heart sinks low. It’s rare for Mickey to say things so emotionally open like that and she knows now that it is safe to ask. “Would you be willing to tell me about him?”

            Mickey shrugs his shoulders and he slowly allows himself to unlock the box he has tried to keep closed in his mind for years. “He was… fuckin’ amazing. He had all of these goals for life and he was going to go far in life if he stuck with them. I came out for him and shit… We had a rocky time because of my dick of a dad,” he recalls fondly. “But then he got sick. Bipolar Disorder. And he broke up with me because he felt he wasn’t… That I wasn’t… I don’t even know anymore. He was supposed to come out here with me, but he backed out the last minute.”

            Gemma listens to every word carefully. Because of the town they live in, Mickey was forced back into the closet for his own safety. It surprises her to hear him be so open about his sexuality and the boy he loved, regardless of how in public they may be. He will never cease to amaze her. “Did the boy love you?” She asks.

            Shifting on the sand, Mickey nods his head slowly. “I think so. I mean… he said he did. I fuckin’ loved him, so… I loved him more than anything and I tried to help him. I tried so fucking hard and it wasn’t enough.”

            “Mikhailo, Lo tienes todo mal. If you truly loved him and helped the boy, then you were not a shitty boyfriend. I will not have you believe such lies. I see that you are a kind and giving person because you were there for me when I lost my leg. You were up at four in the morning every day to help me get up for school. _Every_ day,” Gemma replies sternly. She will not have Mickey believing he is something when he is the complete opposite of what he sees himself to be. She cares too much for that to happen.

            Mickey is not sure where he would be without Gemma. Her parents keep him grounded, but their daughter keeps him relatively sane. He never expected to make many friends when he crossed the border and he is fortunate that he did. He never takes these people for granted because he probably would have been dead without them. They saved his life and Gemma has been an influence on his life that he has never had before.

             "It’s not like it actually matters now,” he then says slowly. “I'm fucked for life anyways."

            Laughing, Gemma gets to her feet and she drops her skirt to the sand. “No esta noche, mi amigo. Follow me. We’re going to go swimming.”

            Pulling his eyebrows together, Mickey looks between the ocean and Gemma anxiously. “I don’t know how to swim,” he confesses.

            “You have been in Mexico for four years and you never bothered to learn how to swim?” She asks with her hands on her hip. “Chico tonto. You will learn now. Come. Get off your lazy ass.”

Reluctantly, Mickey smashes his glass bottle into the sand and he gets to his feet with ease. He examines his plain black shorts and decides they’re the closest thing he’s going to get to swimming trunks. Why buy a pair when he has never had a real use for them? Sighing, he kicks off his shoes and pulls his shirt up and over his head. Gemma eyes the tattoo on his chest and a smile faintly appears on her lips. She knows that his love story is not done yet.

            “Come on, white boy,” Gemma calls as she runs towards the shore.

            Keeping up with her, Mickey runs up to where the water meets land and he pleased to discover the water is still warm even though the sun is setting, creating beautiful colors in the sky. Gemma wades out further and further and he follows effortlessly, but he stops once the water reaches his belly button. He has never dared to go further in fear that he would drown, get attacked by some sea creature, or something along those lines. Rolling her eyes, Gemma treks over to the nearby dock and she pulls a boogie board that she keeps tied to a post for when she wants to have fun. Walking back, she gives the Styrofoam board to Mickey and he looks at it questionably.

            “Hang onto that. It’ll keep you floating above the waves. This the calmest part of the ocean you will find. You’re gonna be just fine,” she reassures with a bright smile that brings out her dimples and her light dusting of freckles.

            Reluctantly, he grips the board and wades out a little further until the water is up to his chest. He’s so nervous a shark is going to pop up and eat him that he can barely concentrate on what he’s supposed to be doing. Gemma, seeing this, reaches her hand out and she grabs a hold of Mickey’s right bicep to pull him along. She is amazed by how scared he is when he always puts up such a tough facade every day when they are together.

            “Once you cannot touch anymore, you’re going to want to kick your legs. Hoist yourself up onto the board to keep yourself floating. Use your legs to move,” Gemma explains.

            Mickey actively feels the sand underneath his feet until he feels it starting to drop away. Internally freaking out, Mickey hoists himself up onto the board and he immediately starts to kick his legs at a slow pace. Gemma watches to make sure he is doing okay and while she does not plan on taking Mickey out much further for his own safety, she is proud of what he has done thus far. Most people freak out when they realize they cannot feel the soft sand beneath their toes anymore.

            “When you’re ready, pass the board to me. You’ll want to use your arms just like you are your legs to keep yourself above water,” she says slowly enough for him to understand.

            Unsure of what to do, Mickey looks down at the board and he takes a second to collect his wits again. He’s almost in his mid-twenties. Fuck, he’ll be there before he knows it. It’s well beyond time for him to learn how to swim properly. Holding his breath, he scoots the board over to Gemma and he instantly falls below the water’s surface. Using his arms like she said to, Mickey kicks himself back up and he resurfaces with a large smile on his face. Had he known that it was so easy to figure this out, he may have tackled it much sooner in his life. Just the thought alone on how much fun he could have had in his younger years is enough to make him regret it a little. He and Ian could have spent a summer down by the river.

            “You’re a natural, Mickey. I’ll have you surfing before you know it,” Gemma compliments.

            Mickey scoffs and he raises his hand long enough to flip her off. “I think the fuck not.”

            “I believe you would enjoy it. Maybe you’ll learn when you return home,” she muses thoughtfully.

            Confused and a little irritated, Mickey makes a face of resentment. He’s not sure why she would even bother referencing home when they both know he’s stuck here forever. “Go home? What the fuck do you mean go home? I thought we agreed not to talk like that anymore?"

            Gemma, now just as bewildered, gestures for them to swim to land. Once there, she puts her hands on her hips much like her mother does when he is misbehaving. “Have you not been keeping up on home, Mikhailo? A lot has been happening since March. Big political movements.”

            Mickey has no idea what she is talking about. He hasn’t exactly been keeping tabs on home. He figured it would only make him miss it more than he already does and he cannot bare that thought. He already misses it terribly. “No? I only have a flip phone for in case I die and you guys need to call somebody.”

            Making a pointed face, Gemma shakes her head. “Come, I need to show you. If what you say about your judge is true, you will be glad to see what is happening.”

            Although he would much rather not deal with anything relating to home because all it seems to be anymore is false hope, he follows Gemma anyways and only stops long enough to pick up his shirt and shoes from the spot he was previously sitting in. People automatically carve a path for Gemma, most of the town residences know who she is and who her parents are. Nobody will mess with her if they want to live to see the next day. Avoiding person after person, Gemma leads him over to the laptop Antonio keeps hidden behind the counter of the bar. She types for a moment and searches for the correct webpage before turning the laptop around for Mickey to see. It is lost to her how her parents have gone this long without mentioning it to him.

**‘America on Fire: The Crack Down on Corruption’**

            Mickey’s eyes widen as he reads the article over and over again. This is much bigger than anything he could have imagined and for the first time in years, he is starting to feel sparks of hope. Gemma leans on the counter and closes the lid to the laptop before Mickey can wear his eyes out from reading it too many times. He looks to her with silent amazement and he is at a complete loss for words.

            “You could go home, Mickey.”

            Doubt clouds his mind, but he does not get the time to respond because Antonio bursts into the bar with a wild look on his face. “Necesitas seconder! The fucking police are coming in for a drink,” he warns.

            With panic on his shoulders, Mickey jumps over the top of the counter with Gemma following closely behind him as he basically sprints to the back hallway. Once at the end, Gemma pulls open a false wall and pushes Mickey inside. She follows him in and shuts them into the little enclosure for hiding. Turning, he opens another door and rushes down the steps to the hidden basement where he has spent years of his time at. Going to his designated area, he plops down on the dusty ground and runs a hand through his hair. This is not the first time cops have found their way to this establishment, but it certainly does not get any easier each time it happens. There is always a burning fear that somebody will recognize him and haul his ass back to jail.

            “You do not need to worry, Mickey. They have never found the basement. They know nothing of my parent’s organization,” Gemma reassures sweetly as she grabs a beer from the little fridge in the corner of the room.

            “I don’t even know why I fucking hide. I show my face around town enough,” Mickey says irritably. 

            Gemma smiles softly and takes a seat on the edge of Mickey’s worn-down cot. She watches him carefully and it’s clear that a lot is clouding his mind. It was only minutes ago that he was told there is a small possibility of him returning home. “The people in this town know better than to rat. The police force does not show their face around here much.”

            Mickey groans tiredly. He’s so tired of this life. While he may have been grateful to meet somebody like Gemma, this is not the life he wants to live. The mere thought of going home does not register in his mind. For four years now, he has convinced himself he would never see Chicago or the people in it again. “…Why do you hide? What’s the point?”

            “I know how important it is for you to not to do these things alone. Hopefully, you will not have to put up with it for much longer,” Gemma explains wholeheartedly.

            Scoffing, Mickey rests his head against the cracked concrete wall. “Can we stop talking like I’m actually gonna go fucking home? It’s never gonna happen.”

            “Deja de ser un pesimista. What is the point then, Mikhailo? Without hope, where do you stand? You cannot walk through your life without something to live for. If not for the thought of home, then live for that boy. Do you really think he’d want you living like this?” Gemma presses sternly and she knows she is right.

            “I don’t know what the fuck he wants.”

            Gemma has just about had it. Standing on her feet, she takes the two steps necessary to tower above Mickey. He looks up at her with worry and that worry only manifests into slight fear when she bends down and points a finger directly at his face threateningly. It most cases, he can safely say that he does not fear a nineteen-year-old girl, but Gemma is that exception. She’s one of the fiercest women he has ever met and he knows she is a force to be reckoned with.

            “Stop it, Mikhailo. I will not have you throw away all of your progress because you are losing sight of your will to keep going. When I lost my leg, you told me that life is still worth living,” she snaps. “You made me promise to keep going because at the end of the day, the bravest thing I would have done is kept living even though I wanted to give up because I thought I would never walk again. So, find your fucking will to keep going, Mickey. You are not giving up. Not today. You still have a life to live.”

            With eyes full of astonishment, he looks up at her and cannot find the appropriate words to say. He has seen Gemma angry before, but not quite like this and he’s honestly surprised that she still remembers what he told her to get her out of bed every morning. “Has anyone ever told you that you are absolutely terrifying?”

            Gemma grins from ear to ear and eases herself down to sit in front of him. “Puedes agradecerle a mi madre por eso.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATIONS:  
> ¿Puede ahorrar cualquier cambio, señor? = Can you save any change, sir?  
> Gasta eso en algo que vale la pena, ¿quieres? = Spend that on something worthwhile, will you?  
> Gracias buen señor. Gracias = Thank you kind sir. Thank you  
> Esta es la tercera vez que te atrapé aquí, Mikhailo. = This is the third time I have caught you here, Mikhailo.  
> ¿Qué tal un poco de inglés por una vez, sí = How about a little English for once, yeah?  
> Lo siento = I am sorry  
> Chico = Boy  
> Lo tienes todo mal = You have it all wrong  
> No esta noche, mi amigo = Not tonight my friend  
> Chico tonto = Stupid boy  
> Necesitas esconderte! = You need to hide  
> Deja de ser un pesimista = Stop being a pessimist  
> Puedes agradecerle a mi madre por eso = You can thank my mother for that


	3. Time for Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As his life continues to push forward, Ian struggles with knowing what to do next. He feels like he's stuck in a loop and although he knows it's time for change, he is unsure of how to take the first step.

**September**

Ian stares blankly at himself in the mirror.

            He can hear Debbie and Carl yelling at each other about something unimportant as Franny wails on the other side of the bathroom door and Ian knows he will have to venture out there sooner or later, but he is enjoying the last of his somewhat shitty peace while he has it. He continues to focus on himself in the toothpaste coated mirror for a little while longer, forcing himself into a bubble of calm energy and anything else that resembles sanity.

He looks down at the pills that rest in his palm and he pops them into his mouth, washing them down with a few gulps of water from the sink. He hates taking them, but he knows what will happen if he chooses not to. He has no intention of losing his mind today… or ever again for that matter. He's done with that part of his life now. He can manage himself and live the life he wants. At least that's what he tells himself every morning in hopes that he will one day believe it.

            Things have been better for him, but not perfect. On most days, he wakes up and feels like he’s doing everything he possibly can to get out and change his life. On other days, he feels as if he is not doing nearly enough. It’s more of struggle than anyone ever realizes. Mickey’s birthday passed last month and he wanted nothing more than to celebrate it with him. And then on the days in which he is considering moving, he realizes it’s not easy to move out on your own with a single income.

He knows he could get a roommate; he fucking knows that because Lip has bugged him about it numerous of times. The only problem is he knows nobody. He wants to get out, yes, but does he want to get out and move in with somebody potentially creepy who sells baby dolls for a living? Sure, he could be asking for a little much, but he’s purposefully taking the longer road to make sure he’s in a healthy and safe situation. There’s nothing wrong with that and even though Lip may disapprove, he’s doing what he knows he needs to fucking do.

            Knowing that somebody will start banging on the door sooner or later, he exits the bathroom and skillfully avoids the screaming kids in the hallway as they throw suspicious objects and liquids at each other. It’s not for certain, but he believes they are fighting over who gets to use the partially working washer today when both of them have somewhere important to be. He even passes by Liam who has taken upon himself to give the lower half of the walls a new style of uncoordinated Crayola paint design in his boredom; Fiona is going to love that when she sees it. He then dashes down the stairs and comes out in the kitchen to find Fiona sitting at the kitchen bar with a cup of coffee held in her hands from Starbucks and an engagement ring worn proudly on her finger. Ian eyes both items with apprehension. He barely recognizes his sister anymore. She is basically a stranger to him now.

            "What are you doing here?" Ian asks blandly. He doesn’t actually care about what she has to say, he just knows it's better to ask then to stand around in awkward silence. For as long as they have been fighting, this is the only attempt at civil living he is willing to make. At this point, he knows both of them are being ridiculous about the entire situation. However, it’s not entirely out of the question for it to be still present in their lives. They both fucked up.

            "I wanted to talk to you," she says slowly. It is not all that common for Fiona to hang around the house anymore. Sometimes she is gone for days at a time and when she comes back, she’s only around for a day or two before she is gone again. Everyone understands and allows it because she spent her entire life looking after them, but it’s hard to accept. Ian’s younger siblings have pretty much adapted to it by now, but it is pretty hard on Liam sometimes. That kid is being raised just like the rest of them were when they were all little kids… by each other with not a single parental figure in sight. 

            "Not interested," Ian replies immediately as he pours himself a glass of orange juice from the fridge. He also grabs a slice of bread while he is at it because he does not want to deal with a stomach ache later on in the day. He knows better than to take his pills and then follow it up by not eating anything. Mickey drilled that into his head when he was around and he learned to listen because, ultimately, Mickey was right about what would happen if he chose not to eat. He learned that the hard way _several_ times. It was bound to click eventually.

            "Ian, please. This fighting has got to stop between us. It’s bad enough I had to tell Debbie that she is not planning my wedding. I don’t want to have to walk down the aisle and not have you be there. I want my whole family there for it," Fiona pleads.

            As Lip comes in through the backdoor dragging Frank’s body from the cold, Fiona and Ian pay no attention to him. This is something they have grown used to in the mornings and there is no telling where Lip found Frank this time. He was passed out on the neighbor's roof three nights ago wearing a mankini and a sombrero. Ian would ask about it, but he's too preoccupied at the moment with his sister who insists on suffocating him. All he really wants is some peace and room to breathe so he can sort through his thoughts. There never seems to be time to do that anymore around here and that only feeds his deep craving to move the fuck out.

            "I'm not the one who is fighting, Fiona. This is all because of how you choose to act and how you blatantly decide to obstruct my life at every chance you get because you think I’m unfit. This is all on you," Ian says in a remindful tone and he’s not too far from the truth. “Besides… This is your third attempt at marriage? I’m sure there will be another,” he adds on coldly.

            Deep down, Fiona knows he's right about this being her fault and she is trying not to respond to the insult because she knows he is only talking like that because he is upset. She never meant for this argument to go on for as long as it has, but she is so terrified that if Ian goes anywhere, he's going to go on a downward spiral again. He has nobody to look out for him but his family. Without his family around, Ian is completely alone and that is something Fiona has never wanted for her siblings. She has never wished for any of them to be alone because they're always supposed to have each other. That's the Gallagher pact. Seeing as they all had failed parents growing up, they have always needed to rely on each other. As the years have gone by the family has fallen further apart, but they still remain together.

            "Ian, please let me make it right. I'm at the end of my rope here," Fiona attempts.

            "I told you I'm not interested, Fiona," Ian snaps.

            "You cannot ignore me forever, Ian. We're gonna have to sort this shit out eventually," Fiona warns with a serious tone.

            "Don't tell me what needs to be done, Fiona. I’m managing my life just fine. I’m medicated and I am healthy. What the fuck else do you want from me?" Ian snaps harshly.   

            Without another word, he drops his glass off in the sink and walks promptly out of the house. He dashes down the steps and looks irritably at the rain that falls heavily from the sky. For the past few days, it has rained nonstop and most of the neighbor's yards have begun to turn into swimming pools for frogs. He doesn’t mind the rain, he only wishes it would be sunny for a few hours, before returning to doom and gloom. It is still summer, after all. Shrugging his shoulders, he takes his first careful step into the rain and starts making his way to his destination. He could not take another minute in that house. He would have lost his mind for real if he tried.

            He has been in a good mood lately, despite the things that insist on making thinking difficult. In an overall sense, he has been better about managing his guilt and Lip's frequent visits do him a lot of good. Ever since Lip told him about the political movement, he has been watching it like a hawk. The public has been exploding about it and a lot of changes have already been made. Some people were fired in late April and more faced criminal charges in early June. Now that August has ended and September is here, Ian hopes that they will come around to the state of Illinois. He's dying to know who is going to get fired and what cases are going to get reviewed. It has become his primary distraction in life.

            Coming up on the Alibi Room, Ian only narrowly misses a bicyclist that comes racing his way. The guy curses him out, of course... because why would it be his fault for riding in the middle of the sidewalk? Laughing to himself over the pointlessness of the scenario, Ian walks through the bar door and he waves excitedly at Veronica. He has not been to the Alibi Room for a long time as he has been trying to keep his mind clear from alcohol. Though, he has to admit that being in this bar brings him a wave of his favorite memories right down to the time Kev let him try his first beer. This place is special to him and always will be.

            "Well look at what the cat brought in, Kev," Veronica says to her husband who has his back turned as he pours a beer for Tommy.  

            "Oh, hey! It's good to see you kid. What's going on in the land of Ian Gallagher?" Kevin asks cheerfully with a broad smile on his face.

            Ian plops down on one of the bar stools at the counter and shrugs his shoulders. "Not much. Lip and I have been hanging out and talking. I've been hanging low, actually. Between work and home life, nothing has really changed."

            Veronica slides Ian a glass of lemonade, which he accepts gratefully. "Are you and Fiona still at it? You guys have been on the rocks for a while now." She questions.

            "Uh... yeah. We stopped screaming at each other over what happened, but it's still not right. I think the others have gotten used to it by now. Or are trying to get used to it, anyways," Ian explains awkwardly. He still has no idea how to address that particular situation to other people when it's asked of him. For a long while, all they wanted was for it to be over. Now, it seems the idea of them fighting is an expected one.

            Veronica frowns and she reaches out to ruffle Ian's hair. "You guys will sort it out some day. She won't rest until you're at that wedding."

            Kevin tilts his head to the side and it's clear he's confused. "Wait... Fiona is getting married? Again?" He asks slowly.

            Veronica and Ian both stare at Kev as if he has lost his mind. "Have you been living under a fucking rock?” They ask in unison.

            "I've been here and raising our kids! How was I supposed to know Fiona is getting married again?" Kev says defensively.

            "Honey, she got engaged in June. Did you think Jimmy-Steve just turned up out of nowhere to hang around the Gallaghers? He’s, like, a brand-new man. Less crazy, more stable. Where were you when she had her engagement party last month?" Veronica inquires.

            “Let me get this straight. Jimmy-Steve is... Fiona's crazy compulsive liar ex-boyfriend turned fiancé with a new, honest, goal for life?" Kev asks, looking for clarification.

            Ian nods as he laughs into his lemonade. There was once upon a time where Ian was in love with somebody who changed for him and a not a day goes by where he doesn’t think about it. It’s increasingly rare to find people like that. "You could say that. It's not like it's too far from the truth. Last I heard, he was about to get his doctorate. Gonna be a doctor or some shit. Fiona was pushing him hard to get it," he agrees.

            Kev nods and excitedly points to the window across the bar. “Hey! It finally stopped fucking raining!” He cheers. “I was worried the streets were gonna flood. That would have been shit for business.”

            Veronica laughs and Ian sheds his light coat in hopes he will not need it anymore. Maybe this will be the break in the weather he has been hoping for.

            “It’s about time…” he mumbles.

 

            Ian crashes down onto his bed with what feels like the worst headache known to mankind. He's not sure how much longer he can stay home when the constant screaming and yelling has scarce breaks. It's driving him absolutely crazy. Adjusting the pillow beneath his head, he breathes in deeply and exhales slowly out through his nose. Just as he is about to doze off, the loud sound of his older brother bursting in through the door jars him from his sleepy haze. Glaring, Ian props himself up onto his elbows and watches as Lip paces their bedroom with a disturbed look in his eyes.

            "Are you high or something?" Ian asks tiredly, rubbing his right eye.

            "Did you know Mandy Milkovich is back in the South Side?" Lip asks in a rushed tone.

            Ian's eyes widen. He has not heard that name for a while. The two of them lost contact years ago and although he has often thought about reaching out to her, he has yet to go through with it. He did not want to disturb her when she was, apparently up until now, living a better life.

"Are you sure it was Mandy?” He asks groggily. “She got out of here a long time ago. She has that job in the nice part of town.”

            Lip nods and finally parks himself on Carl's bed. "Yeah, I ran into her at Home Depot. She was buying plants and all of this fucking house shit. Do you think she's moving back?"

            Ian raises an eyebrow as he tries to sort through a logical answer. Mandy once told him that just because they’re born here doesn’t mean they have to stay here. She believed that so firmly that to hear that she has come back is not sitting well in his mind. The life she had outside of the South Side… It is a million times better than here.

            “Why the fuck would she move back?” He asks, a bite in his voice. “She hated the South Side. She was doing great where she was last I heard. In fact, I know she wouldn’t come back unless Terry was fucking dead and in the ground. She has nowhere to go.”

            Lip throws his hands in the air with uncertainty. Seeing her after all this time is weirding him out. "They all cleared out after Mickey left. I can't... It doesn't make sense. Why would they be back after all this time?"

            "They?" Ian restates in bewilderment. For a single fleeting moment, his heart flutters with an old feeling of hope.

            "Oh, yeah. She was there with... ah... Iggy? Is that his fucking name? He was helping her out, I guess. She's getting ready for a big project of some kind cause she was buying a shit load of tools and crap for repairs. I didn’t even know she could do that stuff," he clarifies with some gestures that admittedly make no sense to who he is making them too.

            Ian reaches behind him to add another pillow beneath his back so he leans up against the wall comfortably. It has been a long while since the last time anyone besides himself has mentioned the Milkovichs. Everybody moved on with their lives once they all cleared out, all with the exception of Terry. It was like the Milkovichs faded away and became some distant memory that nobody cared about. Back when he was at his low point, he struggled to cope with that. All he wanted was to run to the Milkovich house like he did so many years ago and to have Mickey be there for him when he needed him.

            "Maybe she's coming home, Lip. She could be setting some place up somewhere close by. You could offer to help her out. She might appreciate working with somebody who has a few more brain cells than Iggy Milkovich," Ian suggests wisely.

            Lip reaches under Carl's bed for the hidden stash of pot and he pulls a joint out. Seeing Mandy has sent his brain into overdrive mode and although he tries to stay away from pot, he needs something to help him relax. He has had a lot of time to think over their relationship since she has been gone. "Maybe. I'm not sure if I'm ready to jump back onto that freight train. I mean... Would you be willing to reconnect with Mickey if he ever came back? The Milkovichs were all kind of massive basket cases."

            A little irritated by the poorly thought-out comment, Ian reaches down for a shoe and he throws it directly at his brother who complains loudly as it smacks right against his head. "Ow! What the fuck, Ian?"

            "Shut the fuck up about the Milkovichs is what. Mickey deserves fucking more than to have his name thrown around like some fucking piece of trash," Ian seethes heatedly. He spent too much time of his own dragging on Mickey and the person he was when it was not justified nor deserved. He will not hear it from his brother.

            Lip raises his hands in surrender with the joint hanging out between his lips. "Alright, I'm sorry. It just slipped out. You're right. Mickey bent over backwards for you. He was better than most of us were. Mandy too… even though she ran over Karen and ruined her life." 

            Ian sighs and he redirects his gaze up to the ceiling. Lip watches his younger brother carefully and he can see the kinds of emotions radiating off of him. "Would you, though? If he came back from wherever the hell he is?" Lip asks.

            "It's complicated, Lip... There's more to it than what you guys know," he sighs.

            And Ian is not lying. There are a lot of complications in the way that he is unsure about. Not only has his life been insane in Mickey's absence, but their relationship ended so brutally that it still makes him angry to think about it. They deserved more than for it all to be torn apart by overhanging factors they were not aware of. His disease, Sammi getting the military involved... it all seems so unfair. He hates it. At the end of the day, he would give anything to go back in time and appreciate the moments he had with Mickey. They were some of the best moments of his fucking life.

            "Complicated or not, you loved him. You guys were whipped for each other. I’m surprised you two didn’t run down to the courthouse to get married and ride off into the fuckin’ sunset," Lip says with a slight smile on his face, recalling how happy his brother was once upon a time. It’s a hard truth, but it’s much easier for him to see how perfect they were for each other now that Mickey is gone for good.

            "I know what we were for each other, Lip. I lived it and kind of tore most of it apart. I took him for granted. I wish he and I had more time," Ian mutters bitterly.

            Lip takes a long drag from the joint and blows the smoke out of the open window. He hates to hear Ian talk like this. It reminds him of how he was when he lost control. "I wouldn't put it all on you. Life kind of got in the way, you know? Mickey did some shit too."

            The familiar anger that Ian often fights with comes creeping up on him again. It sends prickles up and down his spine and he shifts uncomfortably to try and get rid of them. "If I hadn't fucking gotten sick, none of it would have happened."

            "Hey, stop putting that shit on yourself. Your condition was completely out of your hands and I know Mickey doesn’t fucking blame you for it. He may blame you for the border, but that's an entirely different topic," Lip says sternly.

            Ian shuts his mouth and looks out the window. He's tired of feeling this way and he wishes he could let it go. He goes through phases where he’s perfectly fine with it all, but he seems to always come back to square one. He does not need Mickey to be happy anymore. He, instead, needs to hear that it was not all his fault. It’s insanely difficult to see the truth when his mind is clouded by his illness. Some may say he’s seeking for attention or is acting pathetically because he has purposefully chosen to hang onto the past, but he doesn’t see it that way. He was in love. He was so in love… and it all fell apart. He would do and give anything to go back in time. It feels like a part of him died when Mickey crossed the border.

            “Listen… I’m probably going to be going back to school for a couple weeks. I have some tests I need to take,” Lip says seriously, changing the topic. “Are you and Fiona gonna be okay bouncing around here until I get back?”

            Ian nods his head slowly. “I’ll probably do some overtime.”

            Too tired to keep talking, Ian rolls over to face the wall. He will have to go to work in a few hours, but he hopes he can use the time he has to get some sleep. Through it all, he has made it this far. Nothing has stopped him and he has survived some pretty sketchy situations. It makes sense that he is still heartbroken and longing after all this time. He was hardly medicated when he broke up with Mickey and was barely thinking straight. There was never enough time to process his emotions. Sighing, he pulls his pillow over his head and clears his thoughts. He needs to move on. He cannot keep letting himself slip into these moods.

            There was once a time when he believed he could do anything. He once felt he was on top of the shitty little South Side world. When he was younger, he had all of these crazy plans for his future. He was going to get out of the South Side and travel the world. It was only a matter of time before those beliefs came crashing down and it hit him hard when they did. He could write a fucking book on all that has happened to him and he could probably make millions on it as people got enjoyment out of reading his personal torment. Tonight… tonight has to be different. His life has to change. There’s no point in wishing for things to happen when they never will. His luck has dried up and it’s time to walk a different path.

Little did he know… his life was about to change in the most fucked up way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I apologize for typos that I missed. College has been absolutely insane so I'm not exactly sure how many brain cells I actually have left at this point. Thank you so much to all who are reading. 
> 
>  
> 
> The first few chapters are pretty rough, but I can assure you that things are going to start chaaannngggiiinnnggg!


	4. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever since Mickey heard about the political movements back at home, he has been stuck in a funk. When Carla sends him out to get a few groceries for the party tonight, Gemma encourages to go because there is a huge surprise looming overhead that Mickey is not prepared for.

The police came and went much like everything else in his life.

On a mission for Carla, Mickey weaves through the clusters of people on the road. He is doing his damndest to ride his back that has slightly broken peddles and a wheel that is bound to pop if he dares to run over another rock. Wind rips through his thick black hair and the dust from the road makes his eyes water, but it is something he has grown to love. Skidding to an abrupt stop, he slams his foot onto the ground and slides the bike out from underneath him.

            As a dust cloud erupts behind him and people complain, he smiles wide and does his best to hide his laughter behind a fake cough. He an ass for doing that, he knows, but he can’t help it. Using the lock he found in a dumpster, he locks the bike up and leaves it standing against the rusty bike rack. Several people stare at him as he enters the grocery store, but, contrary to what they expected, he doesn’t care. He’s used to people starring. Realistically, not many white boys find their way to this town and live to tell the tale the next day. He’s lucky… all things considered.

            Walking over to the produce section, Mickey pulls the shopping list from his back pocket as he grabs one of the wire baskets from the stand. He reads over each item carefully, trying to place item with picture. Over the years, he has spent lots of time with Carla in the kitchen, but there’s still a language barrier between the two of them. Not only can she not speak, but his sign language is absolute shit. The compensate, he came up with his own names for things. Before leaving, he probably should have considered asking for clarification.

            “¿Qué coño crees que estás haciendo en mi tienda, chico blanco?”

            Mickey turns around to find a muscular man standing behind him with an aluminum baseball bat. Shrugging his shoulders, knowing full well what was just asked of him, he raises his hand to show the man the vegetable he has been trying to identify. “Does this look like a chayote squash to you?”

            The man is about to strike Mickey with a bat when, out of nowhere, Gemma steps in between the two of them threateningly. “No dañarás a este chico a menos que quieras morir. Él está bajo la protección de Antonio y Carla. Salir ahora.”

            Realizing his mistake, the man raises his hand in surrender and backs away until he has returned to wherever he came from. Gemma shakes her head and scans the area for anyone else who could be a threat, but finds no one.

            “Hey, is this a fucking chayote squash?” Mickey asks innocently. “Your mom sent me out with this huge ass list and I have no idea what any of this stuff is.”

            Turning around with her hands on her hips, Gemma stares at him with a scowl on her face. “That man was going to hurt you and all you care about is my mama’s grocery list?”

            Confused, Mickey raises an eyebrow. “What? Was I supposed to be fuckin’ scared of that guy?” He asks with a laugh. “I could have kicked his ass easily. Piece of cake.”

            Rolling her eyes, Gemma takes the vegetable out of his hand and puts it back. “These are husk tomatoes, Mickey. The chayote squashes are on the other side,” she corrects. “How do you not know this by now?”

Peering over the bin, Mickey finds what he is looking for and grabs for four of them. Gemma snatches the list from his back pocket and laughs quietly. Her mother is making a huge meal to celebrate the news they’re all expecting tonight and Mickey has no idea. “You seem to be in a good mood today,” she observes.

            Stopping in his tracks for a brief moment, Mickey makes a face. “This is how I always am. The fuck do you mean good mood?”

            “You just seem happier. You’re laughing and smiling,” she assesses. “It’s almost as if you found your will to keep going.”

            Scoffing, Mickey grabs the list back from Gemma. “If my will to live involves wanting to please your mother so she doesn’t fuckin’ stab me in my sleep. Then, sure. I found my fucking will.”

            Gemma rolls her eyes and steps in front of Mickey to get his attention. She’s not entirely sure what has him being so negative lately, but she would be willing to assume that it has everything to do with what has been happening at home. He sees it as nothing but false hope no matter how many times people tell him it’s worth believing in. “For the record, my mama considers you to be like a son to her. Usually people are with us for only a few short weeks. You’ve been here for years. She would never throw you out unless it was to send you back home. You should know that by now.”

            Digesting the information, Mickey moves on to the next isle to get what he came here for. He had no idea Carla thought of him like that. “Why are you even here, by the way?” He asks, deflecting. “I don’t need you to protect me. I can handle myself.”

            Moving right alongside him, Gemma matches his quickening pace and takes the wire basket from his hand to which he complains about. “Mickey, your definition of handling yourself usually means picking fights. Mom figured you’d need help, so she sent me out after you.”

            Unsure of what else to say, Mickey falls quiet and grabs the last few things on the list. He has no idea why Carla is making such a huge dinner tonight, but he’s more than willing to help her out. What she has done for him has him feeling grateful enough to stretch over a million lifetimes.

            “There’s a huge party tonight. My papa really wants you to be there,” Gemma presses smoothly. “I’m sure he has mentioned it to you once or twice.”

            Mickey turns around briefly to face her as he throws a bag of rice into his basket. “He did. Five fucking times this morning,” he grumbles. “Why can’t I skip the thing?”

            “Just… save yourself from the trouble. It’s either you be there or he’s going to drag you there,” she urges with a smile that knows more secrets than she is allowed to tell him right now.

            Mickey rolls his eyes, but ultimately agrees. He has never been one for parties when all the parties he has ever been to usually end up with somebody getting punched, but he can make an exception for Antonio. That’s the least he can do.

            “Whatever. Don’t expect me to stay for the entire thing, though,” he reluctantly agrees.

            Gemma sighs and reaches for the next item on the list. “Why must you always make things complicated, Mikhailo?” She asks. “I promise you, you will want to stay for the entire party.”

            Growing suspicious, Mickey stops walking and glares at her. “The fuck do you know that I don’t?” He asks heatedly. “Spill.”

            Gemma awkwardly shrugs her shoulders. “I’m not allowed to tell you. Trust me, Mickey. Trust me just this once.”

            “I always trust you and that usually leads me to doing something I really do not want to fuckin’ do. So, excuse me for being a _little_ skeptical of this party that nobody wants to tell me anything about,” he argues back blandly.

            This pointless argument could go on for hours and Gemma knows it. To hopefully put a stop to it, she puts her hands on either side of his face and leaves a big kiss on his forehead. “For me. Please. I’m begging you. If you choose not to stay for the entire thing, stay close by so my father can call you if he needs you.”

            Jerking backwards, Mickey scoffs and rubs at the lipstick on his forehead. “You’re disgusting,” he complains.

            Laughing, Gemma throws her arm over his shoulders and pulls him along to the next isle. If he only knew what he was in for tonight.

 

_Sunlight bleeds into the room through the cracked curtains, sending slivers of light onto his body. Mickey traces his fingers up and down Ian’s spine slowly, memorizing how it feels to have his skin underneath his fingertips. He could lie like this forever if time ever allowed it. There are not many opportunities where he can get away with this. To have a morning in which Ian is completely asleep with no plans to get up to go to work is rare. For once, his father is not around to force them into hiding. The two of them are completely free to do as they please and it’s liberating to him._

_Scooting in closer, Mickey gently kisses the back of Ian’s shoulder blade and moves upwards until his lips find the joint of his jaw. While he would love to go further, Ian has his face completely buried in the pillows. The most he can see is the fiery red bedhead Ian is proudly sporting this morning. Sliding his hand downward, Mickey slips it beneath the thin sheet and rests his palm comfortably right where the base of Ian’s spine meets his bottom. Grinning, Mickey then rests his forehead against Ian’s arm. He is stupidly happy._

_“You are going to smother me,” Ian mumbles groggily._

_Perking up, Mickey laughs and moves to bite down on Ian’s earlobe playfully. “It’s cold in the house and you’re like a fuckin’ space heater,” he deflects._

_Ian lifts his head long enough to shoot Mickey a look of doubt as his fluffy hair falls over his eyes, sticking up in various directions. “The fuck it is,” he laughs. “You just like cuddling.”_

_“Are you gonna stop me?” Mickey asks knowingly._

_Unable to fight his smile, Ian rolls onto his side and roughly pulls Mickey flush against his bare body. “Of course not,” he whispers._

_Giggling, Mickey cranes his neck upwards and kisses the soft lips that await his. “You know… we have the whole day to do whatever we want,” he informs slowly._

_Ian cups the side of Mickey’s face and snakes an arm under and around to his back so he can be as close to his lover as physically possible. “Yeah? What do you think we should do with that time?” He asks in a low voice that he knows is absolutely adored by the other._

_Mickey shifts around with the intentions to get more comfortable, but Ian grabs his leg and hikes it up to his hip before he can and rolls so his back is against the mattress. Looking up at the red head, he grins and playfully flicks his forehead. “The fuck are you asking me for? Looks like you have your plans already thought out, tough guy.”_

_Ian dips down and presses his lips against the corner of Mickey’s mouth lovingly. “Cause I wanna know what you wanna do? Tell me.”_

_Shaking his head, Mickey rests his hands on Ian’s hips the best he can. He would do anything to stay in this moment forever and although he knows that could never happen, all he can do is hope that somehow… somehow, they can find a way to live like this forever._

            Mickey opens his eyes, disgusted by the memory. Today has been particularly hard for him and he has no fucking clue why. It started with his dreams last night and his dreams seemed to have bled into his day with their poisonous happiness. Normally he wouldn’t care, but it’s making him feel like crap because all he can see when he closes his eyes is a red head and some stupid memory they shared together. It’s not that he doesn’t want to remember, because he fucking does, it’s more or less because it hurts to think back on those days. It hurts to remember when he was happy because he knows he could never have that happiness again. He fucked his life up and there’s no going back from that. Not everybody gets a second chance.

            Bringing the bottle to his lips, he takes a slow and long slip. He knows better than to use alcohol as a distraction, but it numbs his mind and brings him ease. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches sight of Antonio running towards him. He sighs quietly and watches as Antonio pushes through the crowd, yelling loudly with excitement. Setting the beer bottle down on the ground, Mickey crosses his arms over his chest and begins to brace for whatever is coming his way. Should Antonio ask him to do anything mildly ridiculous, he will respond with an immediate no. Gemma, in the years he has known her, has made him do many crazy things and he has had just about enough. Anything more and he might rip his hair out.  

            "Mikhailo! Por favor, debes mirar!” Antonio calls, waving his hands over his head. “You must see this! Things are about to change for you. Darse prisa! Andale!"

            Mickey, although reluctant, rolls his eyes and follows Antonio back into his bar. There are a bunch of people crammed into the small area and more than half of them are wasted as they sway lazily to the music. Mickey shoves his way through and finds himself at the counter where a bunch of people just like him, criminals and escapees alike, stand around a laptop. He pushes his way to the front, trying to see what the hell is going on and he doesn’t care if he is blocking another’s view. He has been here a hell of a lot longer than they have. If Antonio deems this to be important, then anyone that gets in is way is just an obstacle for him to push past. It has been a long time since Antonio has mentioned any form of good news and right now, he could use some.

            On the screen, there’s a live stream of a press conference from back home. He recognizes the building as the town hall, but he doesn’t recognize the man at the podium. Judging by the guards that stand nearby the man, he can safely assume that this man is probably relatively important to Chicago. The camera pans to show the large accumulation of press that flash their cameras and try to get the man to answer their questions, but he answers none. Instead, he clears his throat and smiles kindly at them. The guards stare apprehensively at the crowd as if they are ready to strike at any moment, leading Mickey to believe this announcement is going to be much more important than he thought it would be.

            “As we all know, Illinois and many states like us have been faced with corruption. Many innocent lives have been put behind bars for incorrect or unnecessary charges. Our people have been running from the law because they are terrified. It's time to change that,” the man announces. “After a long conversation that has stretched over the past three months, the board and the president of the United States has come to a decision.”

            Mickey watches the screen in complete and utter disbelief. He always thought that political movements would never take off back home and that was never far from the truth. Nobody ever cared about the criminals and freaks of the world until this whole corruption shit went down. Now, he wishes he kept up with this movement like Gemma originally suggested when she told him about it. Even if this falls through, the effort to make a change is still huge. He’s intrigued to hear what will come out of this.

That is, of course, when he recalls a conversation he had with Gemma not too long ago. All she seemed to want to talk to him about was home and he eventually grew tired of it because, at the time, he had no hope of ever returning. She then sat him down and explained to him that her father, Antonio, knows a lot of people in America. He wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by that and although he _still_ has no idea, he believes it may have something to do with this. Who knows what Antonio could have done to influence this? It’s incredibly ironic. This movement is based entirely on corruption and it’s evident that there was an influence of sorts to even get it started. There is no way they could ever truly banish corruption and for that, Mickey may wind up being eternally grateful.

            “In the state of Illinois, it is with _great_ pleasure that I announce judges Ambers, Tombs, Freeman, and Dekin have all been relieved of duty and they will face charges for the crimes they have committed against the state and her people,” the man continues sharply. The press begins to chatter, moving to the edge of their seats with anticipation. “As a result, Illinois law enforcement and I have taken the time to properly review each case that has been under their jurisdiction. Some cases will be overturned, some will face retrial, and some will be left alone. I will announce them now.”

            Mickey's heart is pounding hard against his chest. Judge Dekin was on his case and was the one who sent him away with ass backwards charges... even though he did at least attempt to torture Sammi. However, somebody, _anybody_ , should have realized that Sammi is completely insane and _she_ was the one who chased him down the streets with a fucking gun. Everybody that is crowded around the computer listens closely to the names being listed and the results of their case. Everybody is hoping they will hear their name followed by a dismissal or a retrial. Either one of the two gives them a second shot a life and it might as well be considered as a fucking miracle given how rare these kinds of chances come about.

            "The case of Amberlin Jane Ashton, overturned... The case of Justin Boyd Dalworth, retrial... The case of Dustin Brad Radford, retrial... The case of Janis Dean Trevor, retrial... The case of Deana Lilly James, retrial..."

            One of the people who stands near Mickey cheers loudly, but he does not pay much attention to him. All of his focus has been dumped into paying attention to the announcement. People are actually being given second… or third… chances at life and for all of his wishing and hoping, this is more than he expected. His judge was fired, his case was reviewed because of it, and now there’s a chance that he could go home. He has no idea how to handle this. Gemma was fucking right. He never should have given up his hope to return home.

On the screen, the man flips over the list of names to start on a new bunch. "The case of Rebekah Rose Mikaelson, overturned... The case of Johnny Reed Thomas, retrial... The case of Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich, overturned..."

            There is barely enough time to react before Antonio is cheering on the top of his lungs and grabbing Mickey by the shoulders. "You're going home, hermano! You can go home to your cold city!" He cheers on the top of his lungs.

            A rarely felt happiness washes over Mickey like a fucking tidal wave. He never thought this day would come. He always assumed that he would live in Mexico until he dropped dead by violence or old age, if he was lucky enough. "Fuck yeah! I'm going home!" He yells over the cheers of the people around him who have also received the same news. He is having a hard time believing that this is reality. This news feels all too surreal. He has to be dreaming. How could he be this lucky?

            "Podemos hacerlo esta noche, Mickey. Everything is ready to go," Antonio says and Mickey is shocked to hear so. He was unaware of such plans.

            "What the hell are you talking about?" He asks wearily. “What’s ready to go?”

            Antonio smiles big and he gestures to his beautiful wife who stands behind the counter, organizing glasses and pouring drinks. "Carla and I have been working up a surprise, hombre. She and I knew you always deserved to go home. Carla got in touch with her people and got you a real passport, a car, and some cash. She even set you up with an apartment near your old home, Mickey,” he explains happily. “Eres libre de ir a casa!"

            He is beyond dumbfounded and over Antonio's shoulder, he can see Carla smiling at him softly. She basically became his mother when he turned up here three years ago and now she's sending him home to where he truly belongs. The bird she helped take care of is leaving the nest after all of this time and although it’s a bittersweet moment, she could never be happier for him. Blinking back his tears, Mickey exhales slowly and smiles back.

            "Antonio, tell Carla I said thank you and that I'm grateful for what she did. I don’t want to fuck up the Spanish," Mickey says urgently. 

            Antonio nods and turns around to face his wife. "Mikhailo te agradece por el regalo y está agradecido de que lo hayamos ayudado. Él está muy feliz de que regrese a casa."

            Carla smiles wide and blows multiple kisses to Mickey who blushes deeply. He always assumed that if Carla could speak, she would sound like the mother he always dreamed of having. He knows now, however, it doesn’t matter because she _is_ his mom now. She took care of him and patched him up, making him strong again. He’s going to miss having her around when he goes back and although he has a family that is definitely not waiting for him, he has made an entirely new one here. Antonio and Carla are the parents he never had and Gemma reminds him so much of Mandy that it almost freaks him out on occasion.

            "Are you ready to go home, Mickey?" Antonio asks.

            In the past four years, Mickey has been uncertain about a lot. Though, in this moment, this is the surest he has ever been in his life. His body is screaming with rejoice. His battles are over now. "Take me home, brother."

            From behind him, Gemma walks up to him and gently taps his shoulder. He spins around and she smiles at him widely. She heard the news as she was coming in and although she is sad her friend is leaving, she couldn’t be happier for him. Out of all the people her parents have helped over the years, Mickey has always been the most deserving. He became a big brother to her and that is something not everyone gets to experience.

“Promise me that when you go, we will not lose touch, okay?” She says, a soft smile on her lips. “I want to hear about all of your American adventures.”

            Mickey nods eagerly and does something that even surprises him. He opens his arms wide and pulls Gemma into the biggest bear hug he has delivered in years. “You fuckin’ got it. I’ll text you whenever I can,” he promises.

            Gemma smiles and ruffles Mickey’s hair playfully. “Good. Maybe I can come visit you one day. I would love to meet the boy in the photo.”

            Mickey agrees, but he’s not sure if she will be able to fulfill what she wants. It has been years since he has been home and had any contact with it. Life has gone on and people have move on with their lives. For all he knows, nobody remembers who he is. Regardless, he’s eager to go back. After all of this time, he has grown to miss his life and he hopes that when he gets back, he can start working to making it the life he has always wanted. That’s all he has _ever_ wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HE'S GOING HOME, FOLKS! 
> 
> Ah... I'm excited to get the next few chapters up. 
> 
> TRANSLATIONS:  
> ¿Qué coño crees que estás haciendo en mi tienda, chico blanco? = What the fuck do you think you're doing in my store, white boy?
> 
> No dañarás a este chico a menos que quieras morir. Él está bajo la protección de Antonio y Carla. Salir ahora. = You will not harm this boy unless you want to die. He is under the protection of Antonio and Carla. Leave now.
> 
> Por favor, debes mirar! = Please, look!
> 
> Darse prisa! Andale! = Hurry up!
> 
> hermano = Brother 
> 
> Podemos hacerlo esta noche = We can do it tonight
> 
> Eres libre de ir a casa! = You are free to go home!
> 
> Mikhailo te agradece por el regalo y está agradecido de que lo hayamos ayudado. Él está muy feliz de que regrese a casa. = Mikhailo thanks you for the gift and is grateful that we have helped him. He is very happy that he returns home.


	5. Old Faces and the Stories They Tell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Ian goes about his day, he runs into an old face he has not seen for many years and by doing so, he finally feels like things are changing for the better.

He has spent most of the day out of the house to clear his mind by doing mundane things to keep himself moving at a pace that feels somewhat normal. Things have no been all that great. 

            Ian pulls his shopping list from his pocket to make sure he got everything he came here for. Lists help him keep his mind organized and even though he only came to the store to get a handful of things, he chose to write them down in case his mind slipped from him again. It happens more frequently than he would like to admit. Satisfied, he gives the cashier his basket and she smiles sweetly at him. He has seen this cashier many times before and by now she must have his shopping list memorized because he only seems to buy the same things. Green Apple Gatorade that turns his tongue green, Debbie’s sugar cookies, a new lighter for Carl because he blew up his last one, and a somewhat healthy lunch for work that comes with a mediocre salad.

            “Good to see you again, Ian," Stephanie greets warmly. "How are you doing today?”

            Ian looks at her and smiles a little. He’s not sure why she is always so kind to him, especially because he’s pretty sure he had a meltdown by the eggs a long time ago and smashed half of the cases that she was trying to put away. Maybe she’s doing it out of fear or pity. She may feel bad for him because he’s crazy. It surely wouldn't be the first time someone has treated him differently because of the condition he has been forced to live with. “I’m alright. I’m actually about to go to the bank to see if I can still afford to move out of my house. I think I have to sell my car again,” he replies honestly with a light shrug as if to make himself appear more casual.

            Stephanie nods, making her pony tail bounce behind her head, and she moves all of his items into a paper bag, expect for the Gatorade because she knows Ian likes to drink it on his way to his destinations. “Are things getting a little too crowded in the Gallagher household?” She asks in a half joking tone.

            “More like too loud… and crazy. Which is just about normal…” He tries awkwardly, failing to carry the conversation. Not too many people talk to him about _why_ he's moving out. Everyone he has spoke to is usually too shocked at the fact that he's actually moving out to care about why he's doing it in the first place. “Uh, yeah. I need some room so I can breathe,” he agrees with quiet, hushed laugh.

            Stephanie laughs with him and takes the cash that he offers her. With his change in hand, Ian grabs his Gatorade and bag and turns on his heel to leave the store through the automatic doors. It’s raining heavily again and he barely has the mobility with his full hands to pull his hood on. His boots splash in the puddles and the bottoms of his jeans get soaked with the dirty water as he makes his way to the car he only bought so he can get to and from work without getting soaked every night. He’s about to climb in when he pauses at the sight of a women walking towards him with a back umbrella in her hands and a purse on her shoulder. Her red lipstick and dark eye-shadow almost makes her look like a new person, but he knows who it is. He could never forget her beautiful face.

            “You’re getting a little hard to find, Gallagher. I’ve been searching all over for you today. Lip said you'd be at work, but Fiona said you may be at the Library,” Mandy greets with a smile.

            Ian quickly throws his crap into the car, no longer caring about keeping the cookies or his lunch in once piece, to free up his arms so he can hug her close against his chest. She smells distinctively of cinnamon apple and her lightly curled hair tickles his face as he plants a kiss on the top of her head. “I keep a low profile now after all of the Gay Jesus shit. It's the only way I can avoid getting spotted or some shit. What the hell are you doing here? Lip said he saw you a little while ago.”

            Mandy takes a half step back to examine Ian’s face. He can tell she’s searching for his untold stories that he keeps locked in a box in his mind. She has no idea what he has been through lately and she hates that the two of them lost contact. It has been quite some time since she has had her best friend around. None of the losers she works with compare, except for one. “I came back to handle some personal stuff. Believe me when I say moving back to the South Side was not my choice.”

            Although he is half covered by her umbrella, Ian is still getting soaked from the rain. He runs a hand down his face to wipe most of the water off, but it’s only replaced by more. He should really consider buying a coat that will hold up in this weather considering September has only just begun and it’s going to be this way until next June. “Did you walk here? Do you need a ride somewhere?"  He asks while gesturing to his car. "I don't have anywhere important to be for a few hours.”

            “I’d like that. It’d get me out of this fuckin’ rain. Wanna go get coffee or something? I want to catch up. It’s been a while since we spoke last,” Mandy suggests.

            Ian nods and the two of them climb into his car. Mandy eyes a switchblade that rests on the unused ash tray with curiosity. She recognizes that blade from her old house. Picking it up, she flips it over to see the poorly scratched on initials that belong to her brother and the initials that belong to Ian just below it scratched on with the same handwriting. “Did Mickey give you this?” She asks.

            Looking briefly to his right, Ian looks at the knife and a small smile plays on the corners of his lips. “Kind of. I stole it from his room a long time ago so I could have something of his and he let me keep it. He said something about a knife being better than a fist in the case of self-defense. And he always hated how I was always walking around unarmed.” 

            Laughing, Mandy sets the blade back where Ian had it. “That sounds like a Mickey move. He hardly went anywhere without a knife or two,” she agrees.

            “Have… Have you heard from him at all? You know… Since they dumped his case for lack of evidence and a crazy accuser?” Ian inquires anxiously.

            Mandy redirects her eyes to the floor as the truth weighs on her. She has not heard from her brother, but she knows where he is and she has been talking to the people that are looking after him. Her reasons for being in town are all centered on the news she received from Mexico. “Why do you care? I thought you broke up with him and moved on?” She dodges.

            Ian sighs and rests his head against the seat’s headrest. “Let’s just say I took some time to evaluate my past decisions and decided that I’m kind of an idiot. Have you heard from him or not?” He tries again.

            “No, I haven’t heard from him. As far as I know, he’s probably tangled up with some Mexican cartel. Mickey could never stay out of trouble when he was around. What makes you think he could keep himself away from it in Mexico?” She lies smoothly.

            Ian is disappointed to hear that. He was hoping that Mandy would be able to tell him that Mickey is at least still breathing. All of the political crap that has been flying around for months now is stirring up a lot of old dirt on old cases and all Ian can think about is Mickey. Pulling into the parking lot, he shuts off the car and braces himself for the weather again. Mandy follows closely behind with her arms wrapped securely around herself to keep her open rain jacket in place. The coffee house smells strongly of freshly baked pastries and hot chocolate, something that Ian secretly loves. It’s a guilty pleasure of his even though he would never come out and say it openly. A few preppy people that are scattered about give him the evil eye because he’s dripping wet, but he does not care. All he cares about is sitting down and talking to the girl who was once his best friend.

            Choosing a spot in the back, Ian slides into the booth with ease and Mandy follows in suit in front of him. A waiter comes by with complimentary water and Ian impulsively thanks her. The waiter smiles and returns to her spot behind the cash register behind the mahogany counter across the shop. Ian comes here a lot to clear his head and think about his current life situations. Sometimes he’ll even come here to study for work so he can continue to get what little promotions he can. Most of the baristas know him by name and some have even tried to flirt with him. He’s flattered by all of their attempts and even though he may one day consider asking one of the boys out, he knows he’ll just end up skipping the date and go straight to fucking. He always does.

            “So, you’re back on the South Side…” Ian starts awkwardly.

            Mandy is unexpectedly glad that two things in her life manage to come up because one is easier to explain than the other. “I’ve been back for three months, actually. I got a call from Iggy a while ago explaining how he found dad on the floor of the bathroom. Turns out, Terry has been walking around with lung cancer. He’s finally fuckin’ dying,” she reveals.

            This news is shocking to Ian. He never thought he would hear that Terry Milkovich is on his death bed. He kind of figured Terry was part cockroach. “How bad is he right now?”

            Mandy shrugs her shoulders, but she does not get to respond right away because the same waiter comes by to take their order. “What can I get you two started with?” She asks brightly.

            “I’ll just have a coffee and two blue berry scones. Warmed,” Ian orders.

            “And I’ll have a coffee and a cream cheese bagel,” Mandy says. After the waiter leaves, she sheds her coat and sets it off to the side beside her. “Terry is still an asshole and mostly functional. He’s losing weight, though. He sounds like shit. I don’t think he’ll last much longer. A few months at most if he’s lucky and doesn’t fucking push his luck. The doctor Iggy took him to see predicted December.”

            Ian rests his arms on the smooth wooden table and examines the necklace around Mandy’s neck. Whatever she has been doing for the past few years is treating her well. “So you’re here because…? I thought you hated him? In fact, I know you hate him more than anybody on earth. Everybody hates Terry.”

            Mandy realizes the flaw in her lie. She did not come home to take care of Terry in any way. In fact, her coming home has nothing to do with Terry at all. She could have dealt with him across the city where she was happily living until she got a phone call from Antonio. “Finances and shit. When he dies, somebody has to handle the money and the house. The only other person who I’d want to do it is in Mexico, so that leaves me. There’s no way I’m letting Iggy take over the house. He’ll find a way to blow it up,” she lies. Though, in retrospect, she should probably consider actually doing that. Terry will be dead soon and if she doesn’t swoop in and take care of things, there’s no telling what her brothers and cousins will do with what’s left behind. She barely got back into the house as it is to gather all of Mickey’s things years ago.

            The waiter comes by with their food and Ian hungrily grabs his first scone. He’s a sucker for baked goods and while he does try to maintain a healthy diet, he caves into his cravings frequently. “You’d trust Mickey to handle the money and house? Really?”

            “He may have been a dumbass and a dick, but he was really smart. He ran dad’s business when he was indisposed and had he not dropped out of high school, I’m pretty sure he could have given Lip a run for his money,” she explains somewhat defensively.

            Ian had no idea. He knew Mickey was street smart and extremely resourceful – the man escaped prison for crying out loud – but he had no idea he could have challenged Lip. It makes him wonder where his life would have gone if he pushed through school and stayed out of trouble. “He should have tried for his GED. When Terry dies, are you going to leave again?”

            Mandy sips her coffee and is pleased to find that it tastes good. She was hoping there would at least be one good coffee shop on the South Side. “I might. It depends on how a couple of other things play out. I have a roommate coming in a few days and we might butt heads. Not sure if I want to deal with that shit, you know?” She explains without giving away the full truth.

            Confused, Ian tilts his head to the side. “Have you not met the guy? That’s a little unsafe, Mandy,” he cautions. Even he knows that you should always meet your roommate before inviting them to come with you.

            “No, I know him. Trust me. I know him better than I want to. He just… It’s been a while, you know? I think he’s changed since the last time we saw each other,” she says awkwardly.

            Having lived a few years away from the South Side, Mandy came to the disturbing realizing that she had almost always been terrible towards her brother. Granted, he wasn’t always nice to her either. Nevertheless, there were times where she should have been a better sister to him because, at times, all he needed was his tough and completely badass little sister. Sighing, she pieces it together in her mind that she’s going to have to get really crafty with her lies if they stay on the current topic for much longer. They can talk about Mickey until they are blue in the face, but she has to steer clear of anything regarding Mexico and whether or not he is coming back or else something _will_ slip out. Looking to dodge the issue, she changes the topic to the first thing that pops into her mind. 

             “How are you, by the way? You look good.”

            Ian shrugs his shoulders and crams a big bite of his scone into his mouth. “Things are a little difficult, but I’m living life. My meds are mostly balanced. Fiona and I are fighting… She’s also getting married again. Jimmy-Steve. Figured she was done with his shit after he came back, but whatever. He's different now," he rambles. "I'm actually looking for a way out of there."

            “You want to ditch your family finally?” Mandy asks with a laugh. This is news to her. As far as she knew, it was next to impossible for any of the Gallaghers to get away. She’s proud of Ian for even thinking about it. “And here I thought that day would never come.”

            “I’ll still be around to see Debbie, Carl, and Liam… and Lip… but I gotta get the fuck out of there. I just want my own room, you know? I’m tired of Carl lighting my clothes on fire,” he explains.

            Mandy thinks back to a time where her family all mostly lived under the same roof and how the Milkovichs have considerably less space than the Gallaghers. “When we were younger, Mickey would always end up falling asleep in my room because Iggy or Joey ended up in his when dad was drunk and they needed a place to hide. We shared a room for years.”

            “Let me guess, that all ended when you guys started hooking up with people?” Ian asks jokingly to which Mandy laughs.

            “Mickey never really brought home anyone during that period, but yeah. He got kind of tired walking into my room and finding a naked guy in my bed. Now that I know he’s gay, I can’t say that I blame him. I brought home one or two red heads,” she responds thoughtfully.

            Ian giggles and buries himself in his coffee. He enjoys hearing stories from when Mickey was younger. They never really hung out growing up and while they played little league together, they never had many encounters. Ian was always intimidated by the Milkovichs and their violent ways. Now that he thinks about it, Ian is surprised Terry even put Mickey through little league. It’s possible that Terry may not have always been so terrible or maybe it was their mom Ian has never seen, heard much about, or met. Who knows if their mother is even alive?

            “Do you think about him at all?” Mandy asks curiously.

            Ian lowers his coffee down to the table as a wave of familiar feelings weigh on him. “More and more every day. I can’t get him out of my head. That’s probably unhealthy, isn’t it? He's been gone, you know… and if you haven't heard from him since they dropped his case, he's probably not coming back, right?”

            Mandy smiles, still holding onto what she knows, and reaches into her bag for a photo she has been carrying around for the soul purpose of giving it to Ian one day. “I found this when I went through Mickey’s shit and boxed it up so dad wouldn’t trash it all. He has a bunch of these in envelopes and shit. Don't even get me started on what's on his laptop.”

            Curiosity gets the best of him and he takes the photo. Mandy has gone through great lengths to keep the photo in perfect condition and for that, Ian is grateful. It has been years since he has seen this picture or let alone thought about this day. In it, Mickey has Ian thrown over his shoulders and they’re both smiling and laughing over something stupid as somebody throws water balloons at them filled with paint. This was before everything went to shit, back when things were still perfect. He thinks about this time a lot and he often day dreams about it when he has nothing going on.

            “I don’t think it’s unhealthy for you to think about him. You and Mickey had something incredible and that means something coming from me. I’m sure he thinks of you,” Mandy says. "He wouldn't be Mickey if he _didn't_ think about you. You changed his life forever."

            Ian slides the photo into the inner pocket of his coat and he returns to his coffee. “I would do anything to thank him for what he did for me, you know? He did so much and I never respected it. I was so absorbed in my feelings. I was selfish. He… _fuck_ …”

            The secret Mandy is hanging onto is nagging at her. She wants to so desperately tell Ian so she can put his mind at ease, but she has been sworn to secrecy until the plan is over and done with. If anyone finds out before then, it could become dangerous. “Look… Why don’t you come with me tonight? Call in sick to work if you have it. My friend Emma and I are going to go have dinner at this super fancy place. Her mom is dating the guy who owns the restaurant so we get to eat shit for free,” Mandy offers.

            Ian perks up a little bit at the offer, but he feels a little awkward about it. “Won’t I be like a third wheel or something?” He asks.

            Mandy smiles brightly and lightly kicks Ian from underneath the table. “Of course not, shithead. I’ll swing by your house at seven to pick you up. Dress nicely.”

           

            Ian lets the warm water fall on him in a desperate attempt to relax. He was supposed to be working a double shift tonight and he’s really glad Mandy gave him an excuse to call out sick because he probably would have ripped his hair out if he went in tonight. He does not love the lack of sleep he gets or the amount of crap his coworkers give him on any given night. Just last month, they thought it would be funny to fill his locker with shaving cream and ping pong balls. To this day, he is still finding shaving cream on his belongings. Being the kind of person that he is, he understands that it’s all in good humor, but he never gets the chance to pay them back because, given his new position, he’s the one who gets everything ready and rounds everybody up when there’s a call.

            Sighing, he rolls his shoulders and lightly grasps the body wash that belongs to his older brother. He meant to get some of his own today, but he it never made it on the list and he knows that if he had bought some, Carl would have found some way to taint it or use it all in one go. The lack of respect for his stuff and the many other growing issues are fueling his need to move out before he spontaneously combusts. He was able to handle living with the Gallaghers when he was younger because he had the mindset of one. Now? Now he’s tired of it.

            Bursting into the bathroom, Lip frantically runs inside and hides behind the door. Ian draws back the curtain enough to expose his head so he can glare at his brother. “I don’t recall asking for you to join me,” he comments irritably. "We're not that kind of family, Phillip."

            Lip takes a second to collect his breath and judging by how red his face is, he was just outside and he was more than likely running. This month has been unusually cold and wet this time around. “Why the hell is Mandy on our porch? Did you tell her to come here?”

            Ian groans and shuts off the water. His peaceful shower has come to an end. “She’s here to pick me up. Why the fuck are you running away from her like a little kid? You guys are fucking adults. Act like it.”

            Lip throws Ian a towel he catches it easily. “Does it really fucking matter, douchebag?”

            With a mouthful of toothpaste and his toothbrush, Ian turns around and gestures for his brother to get the hell out. Rolling his eyes, Lip leaves and makes sure to close to door behind him. Because he knows Mandy waiting on him downstairs, he rushes into his outfit and he only barely remembers to throw on deodorant before leaving the bathroom. Dashing down stairs, he finds Mandy standing in the entry way wearing a sleek black dress with a matching grey knee length rain coat. Debbie tosses him his rain coat on the way out and Mandy leads him out to her recently bought Jeep.

            “Go ahead and climb in the back. Emma is up front,” she advises.

            Nodding, Ian climbs into the back and he rests his head against the seat. There’s a woman in front of him who he presumes is Emma. She’s wearing a dark blue dress and her dark brown hair hangs around her shoulders in loose curls. Mandy does not waste much time before getting onto the road. Ian does what he can to try and figure out where they’re going, but he loses track once they wind up in the heart of Chicago. In fact, they are in a part of the town he has never been to before because he has never had a reason to come up this way. Everything located this way is either way too fucking expensive or has a line that makes it impossible for anyone who did not show up three days prior to get in.

            Parking a few blocks from the restaurant, the three of them climb out and start making their way. Ian every so often peaks at Emma with general curiosity. She seems like a nice enough girl… only she does not seem like the kind of person Mandy would willingly hang out with. Maybe he’s being too judgmental or maybe he’s completely right. Either way, he’s glad Mandy found someone to hang out with instead of deadbeat assholes who only want her for what’s in between her legs. Smiling to himself, they bypass the long line in front of the restaurant and walk up to a man who stands at the front counter.

            “Guys, get in line. You all have to wait just like everybody else,” he says tiredly and it’s almost as if he has said that a thousand times tonight alone.

            “I don’t think so. My name is Emma Summerlyn. We have a table,” Emma says with a head shake, handing the man her ID.

            The man looks at it and checks his books, eyes widening when he realizes his mistake. “I am terribly sorry Ms. Summers. Please, allow our hostess to seat you and your friends.

            A woman with strawberry blond hair walks up to them and smiles brightly. She leads them across the restaurant to near the back where a booth resides with two candles lit on it and a beautiful wall lamp just above it. Ian slides in a little less than gracefully given his long legs and the girls slide in right in front of him. For being a fancy restaurant, the seat is a little uncomfortable. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices another man walking up to the table with a stocky build and black hair. He nearly chokes on the complimentary water and his cheeks flame red once he realizes that this man is not who he thought he was.

            “My name is Brent and I’ll be your server tonight,” he says proudly. “It looks like the three of you are on Mr. Payton’s special guest list tonight. I will be right back with the food menu, the desert menu, and the drinks menu.”

            Scurrying away, Brent leaves them to their personal business and Ian chuckles lightly. “So how did your mom meet this guy?” He asks Emma.

            “Well, my mom floats through a lot of unique jobs, but she landed this really cool one about three years ago. Matthew Payton is a partner with the business and my mom had to help him out a couple of times. She’s not really interested in the guy, but she really wanted to get me in here so I could scope out the place,” she explains cheerfully.

            Ian nods along, finding it to be mildly interesting. “And what does your mom do? If you don’t mind me asking…”

            Mandy laughs discreetly and Emma laughs along. “My mom works for a business that specializes in discreet shipping. In simpler words, she works for the black market.”

            Ian eyes widen. Now it makes sense why Mandy and her are friends. Emma is not the kind of girl Ian expected at all and he has a feeling they’re gonna get along perfectly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are slowly heating up... and pretty soon it's all going to blow up. Thank you to those who are reading! I'll try to get the next chapter up, but I'm still writing the last ten chapters so, until then, the schedule will be a little off.
> 
> As always, I apologize for typos. Being constantly tired and Dyslexic makes things rather interesting.


	6. Fuck the Previous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally returning home, Mickey adjusts to his new life and tries to wrap his mind around the concept that he is actually home and things are going to be, what he hopes to be, okay.

It has been a long time since he has been here.

            He stares up at the house with a blank mind and a heavy heart. He’s not sure how he ended up here of all places after the long fought internal argument he has been fighting with himself on over the past few years. None of that matters now because here he is in the middle of the night, standing on the sidewalk in early September. He cannot be here, he knows that by now. That was the whole point of the argument. He told himself he was not going to do this. He was not going to let himself cave in and go to the one place he swore to stay away from for his own good and the good of the red headed boy inside. In spite of everything, he needed to see it. He needed to know that the house was still standing and it is. It looks no different compared to when he saw it last. They managed to keep it standing after all of this time and he's not sure how the fuck they managed to do so.

            Although every bone in his body is screaming for him to walk up the slick wooden steps and knock on the door with an explicit phrase plastered on it, Mickey turns away and shoves his hands deep into his jean pockets. Today is not the day and he can live with that.  He has only been back in town for a few hours, but he knows what his future looks like. He'll come back later, on another day, and repeat this cycle until he finds a way to break it. He has spent so much time away and the curiosity is eating at him. There are so many questions he craves the answer to. Is every one okay? Did Ian finally find some happiness in his life when it had been so shitty for so long?  He needs to know these things, but he is also very aware that he cannot prance around prying for them in places where his presence is unwanted. As long as he keeps his distance, everything will be okay. Or, at the very least, that’s what he will tell himself until such a time he can see otherwise. He has no place here anymore.

            Rain begins to fall heavily from the sky, soaking the sidewalk Mickey walks on. To protect himself, he hugs his coat closer to his body as he shields his face with his hood. He spent more than enough time in the heat of Mexico. He's glad to be home where everything seems to be relatively the same and blissfully cold. He knows that's a mostly false statement, though. A lot can happen in four years, especially in the South Side where things are constantly changing. If there is not some kind of political garbage invading their side of town, somebody is dragging a body across the street, and if by some freak chance things remains peaceful, then somebody is probably throwing a rager in their too house that is way too small for the number of attendees. That's how things are and that's primarily how they will always be on the South Side. Change is not something that is frequently welcome here. He grew up in this shitty place, he should know. Mickey smiles to himself and walks up the steps of the apartment complex Carla set him up in. He almost completely ignores the front desk guy who tries to get his attention, only just barley realizing the poor guy is actually trying to get his attention for a legitimate security reason.

            "Sir, wait," the man calls. "Can I help you?"

            Mickey turns on his heel and takes a moment to process this scenario. This is the South Side, pretty much in the middle of the ghetto, and there's a guy running the front desk in a trashy ass apartment complex. He almost finds it comical. "Yeah, I'm looking for apartment 4A."

            The man, who Mickey realizes is named Peter by the name tag, looks down at the laptop on his desk and presses a few keys. "Can I get your name?"

            "Uh... Mickey Milkovich. My legal name is Mikhailo," he responds stiffly. He hates addressing himself with his real name.

            Peter types in his name and scans the screen for the information he is looking for. "Ah, Carla Comienzo sent you. Perfect. Go right on up and follow the numbers. When you find your apartment, just knock on the door. Somebody Antonio contacted is waiting for you inside. Welcome home, Mickey."

            Having Peter around suddenly makes sense. This apartment complex is owned by Carla and this is where she sends all of her, as she has deemed, kids when they come back home. Peter is there to make sure nobody tries to come in who does not belong as some sort of protection detail. Who knows how many apartment complexes Carla actually owns across the states? He always knew their foundation is huge, but he never thought it would go to the lengths it has. Carla made sure he got home safe and that alone is huge.

            Navigating the hallways gets tricky after a while, but he eventually finds the front door he is looking for. Bringing his fist to the wood, he knocks hard and loud for whoever may be inside. There’s no telling who Antonio called. He's fully aware that it's the middle of the night and there is an extremely small chance that anyone is actually awake, but he's not about to spend another night out on the street. Especially since the rain is showing no signs of stopping. He has spent enough time looking for shelter and for places to sleep where he could wake up and not find another human screaming at him to move in a language he does not understand.

            From the other side of the door, Mickey can hear shuffling of feet and quiet cursing from a woman's mouth. He waits patiently as she unlocks the deadbolt and door chain, unsure of what exactly he should be bracing for. When the door swings open, the first thing he sees is a metal baseball bat and a surprised girl that he knows all too well. He smiles at her and she drops the bat to the ground, having no use for it anymore. It’s clear that she was expecting someone else entirely and not her older brother. Her hair is tied up in a pony tail and her makeup has been washed off for the night, but he still recognizes her. He could never forget her face or the glint in her eyes.

            "You motherfucker! I thought you were some punk ass kid trying to pull some stupid ass prank again," Mandy exclaims as she throws her arms around her brother.

            Mickey snorts and returns her hug, grateful to see her after so many years away. Even before he left, she was hardly around and it's clear that she has changed. She's not the same girl he remembers. She seems stronger and healthier... She seems better. “Well I wasn't going to fuckin' stay out here all night. They told must have told you I was coming back within the next few days?” Mickey replies with heavy exhaustion in his voice. It has, admittedly, been a long couple of days for him. As it turns out, the news of his case being dismissed was not yet passed to the border and they tried to arrest him three separate times by the hands of three different guards. It took forever for them to get the information needed to let him go.

            Mandy takes step back to examine her brother as if she is searching for something that he is not saying. She can see the weight that is pressing down on him. "Yeah, well, when they said that I thought you'd... I dunno... show up at a normal time and not three if the fucking morning, asshole," she snaps as she steps aside.

            Mickey enters the apartment and is immediately dumbfounded by how nice it is in the entry way alone. For the first time in many years, he will not be living in a shithole. Sure, this is considered to be South Side nice, but it's nicer than anything he has ever had the chance to live in. There is new paint on the walls, brand new cheap furniture, a nice TV... He almost cannot comprehend that this place is his. "Holy shit," Mickey retorts, unable to say anything remotely intelligent in the wake of his initial shock.

            Mandy grins and leans the bat up against the door-frame with the intentions to put it away later. "It's nice isn't it? Carla has a lot of money, I guess. She got the apartment, but I got the furniture and shit. Turns out when our uncle Laurence kicked the bucket, he had quite a lot of money in his account that was just sitting there for months so I swooped in and took it. Used it to turn this piece of shit place into something livable for you," she explains casually. “And me, I guess. I’m living here too.”

            "Why didn't you just buy a new house in a nicer part of town?" Mickey asks, a bit confused by his sister's decision to stay in the South Side. She always talked about how much she hated it when he was around.

            "I said there was money, I didn't say there was a lot. Besides, I wanted to put some of it away in a savings account in case anything major happened. Like, say, the return of my no longer fugitive brother," Mandy beams tiredly. It has been a long few months for her. Now that her job is done, she can relax.

            Mickey finds it increasingly hard to believe that Mandy is being genuine. As far as he knows, his family never gave a damn about him or what happened to him in his painful life. Hell, most of them were glad when he skipped town. They no longer had to deal with the faggy Milkovich boy who was constantly proving to everyone that he is stronger than what they make him to be. "It was just luck, Mandy. I'd still be on the fuckin' run if they didn't decide to throw out the case," he reminds her scornfully. He’s not sure why, out of all the times that have passed, this is the moment where luck was finally on his side.

            Mandy rolls her eyes and looks her brother up and down. While he has been away for a while, he still carries a lot of the same characteristics that she remembers the most. His powerful presence, his stance… the way he styles his black hair… It’s all the same. Yet, there is something that _is_ different and she is having a hard time placing what that something is. "Does it really matter? You're back, Mick. You can start living a normal life again. Look… Let me explain the floor plan. Your bedroom is at the end of the left hallway on the right. The door in front of yours is the half bathroom. On the other side of the kitchen is the left hallway where the full bathroom, my bedroom, and the spare bedroom are located. Clearly, the living room is in front of the kitchen and we have a nice counter to divide the two,” she says with gestures.

            Mickey wants to ask her a couple of questions, but Mandy cuts him off long before he can formulate the words. “Look, I'm tired as shit and I have to be somewhere early tomorrow. I set your room up and shit, go knock yourself out with a bottle of melatonin or something. Enjoy your master bedroom. It took a lot of work to set it up. Iggy can't follow instructions for shit," she says with an exhausted yawn.

            Walking away, Mandy leaves her brother alone in the living room. He smirks in her absence and finds her tired mannerisms to be almost humorous. He looks around the room again and he sighs, adjusting the heavy bag he keeps slung on one shoulder. So much has happened in this town and now he's here again. He fell in love, got the shit beat out of him, and he had a first row seat to many terrible things that he would love to forget entirely. He's not sure what tomorrow is going to look like and part of him doesn't care. All he can think about is that bed in his room and the amount of sleep he hopes to get. It has been years since he has slept on an actual bed and not the crap they gave him in prison. Carla did her best, but somebody had to draw the short straw. Shuffling his feet slightly, Mickey walks to his bedroom door and he lightly pushes it open to look inside.

            This room is, like everything else he has seen thus far, much more than he expected. Some of his pictures and his guitar found their way in here, but the furniture is all new and just like the rest of the apartment, it's all clean. Mickey laughs lightly and kicks the door closed behind him. He walks over to the full sized bed with grey blankets and pillows and he appreciates that Mandy, or whoever, stuck it by the window. turning on the bedside lamp, Mickey squints in the bright light as he plops down on the edge of the bed and removes his heavy jacket. Pulling his bag onto his lap, he, one by one, begins to pull out the contents inside. This is everything he has managed to hang onto in his time away.

            He throws all of his dirty clothes across the room to clean later and he tosses his extra shoes in the general direction of the closet, smiling at the small mess he has created. _Now_ it's starting to feel like his room and less like a hotel room he has been told to stay in and not destroy. From the bottom of his bag, he pulls out a couple of trinkets he has collected, or he has been given, and he rests them on the table to be put away when he finds a suitable spot for them. The last thing he pulls from the bag is the image he managed to grab before crossing the border and leaving his life behind. He runs his fingers over the picture and thinks back to the time when things were simpler and it all made sense because he had his red head by his side. That time has long since passed, but his heart still craves it. It always will and he's not sure if he's okay with that.

            Refusing to let himself fall back into the old feelings of pain and regret, Mickey shoves the image into the drawer of the bedside table and he slams it shut. He's angry at what happened between them, but he has also learned to be okay with it even if it’s incredibly hard to accept. It's old history now and he hopes that wherever Ian is in his life, that he's truly happy. Mickey never stopped loving him, it feels physically impossible for him to do so, and he knows he never will. Even though it hurts him, he has learned to live with it. He has learned a lot in his time away or, more specifically, his time on the run. He only hopes that when the time comes for him and Ian to see each other, he can keep this same mindset. Starting up the same patterns will do nobody any good. Things have to change now. He will not go back to running from the law.  He is done with that part of his life now and he will not let Ian get wrapped up in his tragic life again. Not now, not ever again.

            Cursing under his breath, Mickey changes into sweatpants and a thick sweater to sleep in. He turns off the lamp and flops down on the bed tiredly and although he is sleep deprived, he remains awake. His eyes shift over to the partially open window and he watches as the rain continues to fall from the sky. Deep down, he knows he no longer has a place here… in this town. Nevertheless, that does not stop the overwhelming feelings of joy he gets out of the fact that he is, somehow, back to where he belongs. The South Side. He can live his life now knowing that he does not have to look over his shoulder every couple of minutes for cops that won't be there. He's free. He has a shot at life now. His name no longer defines him and he can reinvent himself to be the person he has always wanted to be. This is where his life turns completely around.

            That’s what he tells himself, at least.

 

            "Mandy, I fucking hate you."

            Mickey wipes car grease from his arm and throws the rag at his sister to make his point loud and clear. Mandy squeals and hides from it behind the kitchen counter. "Unbunch your panties, asshole. I couldn't fix it, I don't have the money to get it fixed, and I really need the Jeep to work," she reminds him.

            Mickey rolls his eyes and he effortlessly catches the oily rag Mandy throws back at him. "You do realize this part is like a thousand years old, right? This thing is likely to break again."

            "It was all I could afford at the time. What do you want me to do? Whore around until I get the funds for a Mercedes? I had to quit my job, Mick. Emma got me set up with something decent, but it's going to take a while before I reach a decent pay grade," she snaps in return. “I finished making lunch if you're hungry."

            Mickey shrugs and leaves the mess of car parts in the living room to tend to later. He goes to grab one of the sandwiches from the griddle, but Mandy bats his hand away and insists that he washes his hands first. Obeying, he grumbles over to the sink and gets the water pouring by using his elbow to avoid getting oil and grease on the handle. Thoroughly because he’s hungry, Mickey scrubs his hands and he almost laughs at how black the water turns. He smiles softly to himself and moves to the small ass dining area adjacent to the kitchen, where Mandy is waiting patiently for him with freshly made coffee. As he plops down on a new dining table chair, Mandy slides him a plate and cup. He could get used to living like this, but he knows better than to think anything in his fucked up life could be considered permanent. Something always, without fail, comes to take everything away from him. It's only a matter of when. 

            "So, we need to have a talk about you getting a job," Mandy says slowly as she sits in the chair across from her brother's.

            "Jesus, Mandy. I have been home for less than two days. What happened to that grace period you were offering when I came home?" Mickey complains as he takes a huge bite from his sandwich.

            "I know, but living here on my own has not been cheap and with the heater running all of the time... it's going to get pricey. Carla set you up in the South Side like she knew you wanted, literally two blocks from our old house, but it costs to run the utilities all of the time," she explains grimly.

            Mickey rolls his eyes and takes another bite. In the back of his mind, he is wondering when the last time he had a grilled cheese was. “Hang on… If you’re having a hard time with the rent, how do you expect me to do it on my own? I thought you were planning on leaving soon?” Mickey demands.

            Mandy sighs and she rests her arms on the table. “I’m not leaving, Mick. Not for a while, at least. I have a few reasons to stick around. Besides, I’m working on getting us a third roommate to even things out. I just know you won’t like it. It's going to take some time, though.”

            “Who the fuck are you bringing in and why won’t I like it? It better not be some random guy you picked up.” He questions with a mouthful of his sandwich. “I’m not going through that shit again.”

            “It doesn’t matter right now. Will you get a damn job or not?”

            "I'll get a fuckin' job, Mandy. Just let me eat my damn food in peace, will you? I'll go out after I'm done," he snaps.

            Mandy makes an annoyed face as she shoves away from the table and walks away down the hallway to her bedroom where she slams the door closed. Mickey had not meant to come off so rude, but he barely slept last night and he spent most of the morning doing house work. Being pressed to get a job was not exactly something he wanted to hear considering it was already on his list of things to do. Sighing, he continues to eat and ignoring the fact that it's hot, he downs his entire coffee and moves the empty dishes to the sink to do later because it is, inevitably, his night to do the dishes. He then slides back into his boots, his heavy jacket, and he does try to find Mandy to apologize, but the ‘ _do not disturb_ ’ sign on her bedroom door has him turning the other direction.

            Shuffling along, Mickey shields himself from the rain while he keeps an eye out for any help wanted signs. He's more than half way across town when he stops dead in his tracks and shakes his head in self-realization. Nobody is going to hire him. Not only was he a felon on the run for several years, but he spent most of his youth causing trouble and wrecking havoc all across this town. Shop lifting, public destruction… he did it all. Nobody in their right mind is going to hire him and give him a shot at making an honest living. Now, standing here in the middle of the street, he wishes he never told Mandy he would go look for a job today because it might take a lot more work than he realized.

            Turning around to head back the way he came, Mickey passes the Alibi Room. He looks at the door with mild appreciation, however he is a little put off by the Vagina Safe label plastered on it. Much like many other spots in town, several big things happened here. Hell, he came out in this bar and got beat to shit by his father. Although he feels nervous to, Mickey pushes past the door and is glad that he does not see Frank Gallagher anywhere. Mickey swiftly walks over to take a seat on one of the bar stools and he is pleased to see Kev down on his knees shuffling through the glasses and crap he keeps behind the counter.

            "Hey, uh, what's a guy gotta do to get a fuckin' drink around here?" Mickey asks.

            Kev looks up with a glum expression, but it changes into something of confusion when he finds that it was Mickey who spoke to him. "Is that you Milkovich? Please tell me I'm not hallucinating from hitting my head this morning."

            Mickey laughs and leans forward a bit on the counter. "Depends. How did you hit your head?" He asks out of genuine curiosity.

            Kev gets up to his feet and towers above Mickey. It has been quite some time since the two of them have seen each other and it is now that Mickey remembers how closely Kev resembles a large dog who thinks he's much smaller than he is. He would never say it out loud, but he missed the guy.

            "Oh, Veronica got pissed at me this morning so she threw one of her hooker boots at me. The damn heel of the thing got me in the back of my head on my way to work. The usual," Kev explains with gestures.

            "I see..." Mickey trails as he is unsure if he wants to hear the reason why or not.

            "But, hey! When did you get back in town, kid? You've been gone for like five years or some shit." Kev asks excitedly.

            "Four years and a couple nights ago. The legal system decided to throw out my case. I guess they finally figured out how batshit crazy Sammi is," Mickey explains with a shrug.

            Kev gets to work on pouring Mickey a drink that he didn't order and while he would normally complain, he takes a moment to realize that he doesn't care what it is Kev is giving him. All he cares about is if it tastes good and will take the annoying edge of today.

            "Right on. Does... You know... know?" Kev says, clearly trying to say something without saying it at all. Mickey looks at him with confusion written on his face and he waits for Kev to finish his sentence or at the very least, give more of an indication of what he's talking about, but he doesn’t and Mickey rolls his eyes.

            "Does what? I'm not a fucking mind reader, dumb ass," Mickey snaps.

            "Does Ian know that you're in town?" Kev asks hesitantly. "You guys were like... magnetized to each other."

            The question makes Mickey cringe on the inside, but he keeps in concealed in fear that Kev will ask more questions regarding their history. "No. So far, only you and Mandy know," he replies irritably.

            Kev nods and Mickey is thankful he drops the topic and slides him his drink. "I see. Well it's good to have you back. What have you been up to?"

            Mickey shrugs and brings the glass up to his lips. Kev made him something with bourbon in it and for not knowing what the hell it is, he is surprised by how good it tastes. "I was out looking for jobs, but I stopped once I realized nobody is gonna fuckin’ hire me with the track record I got. I'm trying to think of something to tell Mandy. She’s going to kick my ass if I come home empty handed."

            Kev rests his palms on the counter and he leans on them with an expression on his face that would suggest he's thinking of a plan. "Well, that's easy. Tell her you got a job."

            Mickey sets his glass down and he stares at Kev as if he has lost his mind. Did everybody lose a few IQ points in his absence or have they always been this way? "That's a genius plan, dick for brains. And I suppose you want me to tell her than I'm making a decent wage while I'm at it?"

            "No, I mean it. Tell her you have a job because you do," Kev continues.

            "Okay, am I missing something here? What the fuck are you talking about?" Mickey pries, growing irritated with Kev's refusal to speak his mind clearly.

            "I just hired you, Mickey. You're gonna work here at the Alibi. I'll pay you good and give you plenty of hours. I don’t give a damn about your record. I know you’re a mostly good kid," Kev replies proudly.

            Mickey stares at Kev and he's honestly surprised to hear such an offer. To say the least, this is not what he expected. "Oh... Alright, yeah. When do you want me to start?"

            Kev reaches down to pull something from behind the counter and he slides it to Mickey, who then picks it up and examines the cover. It's a binder full of the several different drinks Kev and Veronica offer at the bar. "You can start on Saturday. I want you to take that home and memorize as many as you can. It'll make serving a hell of a lot easier."

            Mickey flips through the first few pages and it’s clear he will have to spend some time on this. Just moments ago, he was sure he would be struggling to find a job in this town, but Kev swooped in and saved the day. Honestly, Mickey feels a little stupid for not checking here first, but he knows his subconscious was only trying to steer him away from places where a certain family would be lingering. All in all, things are going smoothly for Mickey Milkovich. For now, that is.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MICKEY IS BACK! And, holy shit, this is where stuff starts getting traction. I will be uploading a couple more times today, but this WILL be the last time I do a multi-chapter upload. I just want to get you guys to a... certain... place before I go back to one chapter every few or so days. Thank you so much for the love! It means a lot to me as a writer. Buckle up, guys. You're in for a wild and sometimes painful ride. In fact, I'm pretty sure some of the pain begins in the next chapter ;)
> 
> AS ALWAYS, I apologize for typos. They're evil little shits :)


	7. What a Dead Man Requests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Mandy breaks the news that their father is dying of cancer, Mickey struggles to understand what that means exactly. Later, he heads to work where the man himself stirs some trouble. In the mean time, Ian hangs out with Carl as he struggles with heartbreak. 
> 
> WARNING (CONTAINS SPOILERS): This chapter includes mentions of Mickey's rape. (When he and Ian were caught by Terry and he called Svetlana... aaannnnd we all, unfortunately, know the rest). The details of the event are not explained. The only reason why it is mentioned in this chapter is because it is thrown in Terry's face. There is also a mention of Mandy's rape that Terry is ALSO responsible for (we found out about that early on in the series). Details are not explained and it is talked about in the same context.

Mickey's head rests against the wall as he blows cigarette from his lungs in one slow exhale.

            His head hurts from everything he has been through in the past few days. He's home now, but he still feels like he has to look over his shoulder every three seconds in case he needs to run for it. He has no idea how to manage himself anymore. At any given chance, he has made it a personal goal to keep himself busy at all times. If he's busy, then there's no room for him to grow paranoid or self-conscious about how crap-tastic his life is. He came home to absolutely nothing. The love of his life is not waiting for him, the town he grew up in has not missed him, and almost everybody he encounters only sees him as the attempted murderer Sammi pegged him as anytime he goes to the grocery store to pick up whatever Mandy requested at the time. Things are not how he remembers them to be. His South Side life has changed and he does not belong.

            Way early in the morning, before any sane person should be awake and functioning, Mandy took it upon herself to make breakfast for her brother as she decided it was finally time to break some tough news to him. Mickey could tell there was something wrong as soon as he walked out into the living room and saw the somber expression on her face. Not to mention, she has never really gone out of her way to cook something before anyone is actually up specifically for him. As they ate, Mandy finally confessed the secret she had been hanging onto for the soul purpose of the grace period she promised even though she had no idea how Mickey would take it. She explained how she received a call from their brother three or so months ago as she was waking up one morning. She explained to him that Iggy found their father on the bathroom floor in a pool of his own blood and how it was later discovered that Terry has been walking around with terminal lung cancer.

            Mickey had a hard time believing that Mandy was telling the truth. He assumed that she was trying to pull some sick joke on him in an attempt to make him believe that he is almost completely free of his sadistic father. It took him many hours more to adjust to the idea and when he did, a bunch of unwanted emotions came at him all at once like a train running at full speed. Terry made his life a living hell any chance he got. Mickey did what he could to follow his orders because that’s what he was conditioned to do, but as he grew up and started becoming his own person with his own goals in life.. he grew to hate Terry. That hatred has been burned in his core for years as a reminder. As a reminder to never become Terry. As a reminder to become _better_ than Terry.

            Their father will not last much longer and his death will finally set Mickey free. He will no longer have to live under the shadow his father cast upon him. All he has ever wanted was to get as far away from his father as he could and although it's terrible, he knows Terry has had this coming from miles away. This is karma coming after him for all of the torment and pain he has caused his family over the years. Mickey was once Terry's favorite son and he is glad he promptly removed himself of that title when he decided to come out in a bar full of his family and his now ex-lover. His father will be dead soon and for that, he is incredibly grateful. Terry Milkovich's reign is coming to an end after all of these painful years. 

            When sunlight starts to come in from his tattered curtains, Mickey knows he no longer has a shot at getting any sleep. He let the entire night fade away while he was trapped in a bubble of thoughts that has clouded him since he was arrested. Groaning, he puts out his cigarette in the ash tray and slides out of bed. Quietly, he shuffles out of his room and finds himself in the empty kitchen.  Not a sound can be heard as Mandy is still very much asleep. He looks around the area in blunt awe because he is still trying to wrap his head around the fact that this place is technically his. He's not used to living in something that does not have holes in the wall and about a million stains on the floor. The construction is cheap and half of the furniture Mandy bought will be falling apart in five years, but he's grateful. He can make this place a functional Milkovich home.

            Sighing, he walks all the way down the left hallway to the bathroom. He quietly shuts the door behind him and flicks on the light switch so he can see what he's doing. As he starts the shower, he sheds his clothes in random spots on the floor with the intentions of picking them up later because he knows how pissed Mandy will get if she walks in here and finds a mess all over the place again. He's lucky he got away unharmed last time he did it because she almost killed him. Laughing to himself, Mickey hops under the warm water in hopes of rejuvenating himself after a long night of no sleep and ridiculously pointless thoughts that have done him absolutely no good. They're only drowning him.

            Taking his time, Mickey rolls his shoulders and scrubs his body wash all over his body to wash away yesterday's dirt accumulation. There was once a time when he was known as the dirtiest boy in America, but not anymore. He cleaned up for the boy he fell in love with and the habit stuck. It's almost painful to think about it that way, but he deals with it the best he can. He's tired of living his life in a constant phase of the unknown and deeply embedded regret. He's going to have to move on eventually. At this point, he's completely out of options and he lost hope years ago even though Carla, who loved hearing about Ian, advised that Mickey should never give up on his feelings because life is full of tricks and there is always, no matter what he may have convinced himself to think, a chance.

            Climbing out of the shower, he goes about his usual morning routine before walking out with a towel wrapped securely around his waist. Mandy is standing in the kitchen when he comes around the corner and she tiredly nods at him. "Why the fuck are you awake?” He asks. “It’s barely seven.”

            Mandy shrugs her shoulders and gestures to the towel around his waist. "I could ask you the same question," she points out.

            "I didn't sleep. You did," he corrects smartly. "I carried you to your room last night." 

            Mandy rolls her eyes and sets her coffee mug on the counter. "I have somewhere to be. Are you going to be a douche all day?" She asks bitterly.

            "Not sure yet," Mickey comments as he walks out of the kitchen to walk down the right hallway to his bedroom so he can put some clothes on.

            “Honey, you're doing great."

            Mickey looks over at Veronica who smiles at him with her hands on her waist. "Beginners luck, I guess," he replies anxiously.

            Mickey would never confess it to anyone who asks, but having this job has been scaring the hell out of him. He figured since he has drank more than half of the drinks on this menu this job would be a piece of cake, but he quickly learned that bar tending on any given night in this town is much harder than Kev has ever made it look. Not only does he have to be attentive to all of the customers, he has to be quick and generally not an asshole to them so he can earn healthy tips. He can swallow his pride to get the job done, but it's much more than he anticipated it to be and he should have gathered that from when he helped Antonio out at his bar. When things are a little less chaotic, he does have fun with it and enjoys talking to Veronica even though he's pretty sure she hated him at one point.

            "I think you got a real talent for his, Mick. I mean it," Veronica continues. She knows a nervous boy when she sees one, even if that nervous boy is the infamous Mickey Milkovich. Becoming a mother has taught her a lot about the nature of kids who have grown up on the South Side and she is not afraid to admit that she feels motherly instincts towards Mickey after everything that has happened to him in this town. She actually cried when she learned the Milkovich family history through Ian when she asked about it once upon a time.

            "Thanks..." He mumbles cautiously. He has no idea why she is being so nice to him. He was pretty much a dick to everyone at one point or another.

            The past week and some days have been hard on him. When he was not studying the binder full of drinks Kev gave him, he was helping Mandy around the house. He had not noticed until his sister pointed it out, but he has intentionally been living a hermit life style because he is afraid of being seen by any of the Gallagher kids on the street. It dawned on him the night he got the job that he chose to work at probably the worst place for avoiding those people. Not only are Kev and Veronica practically an extension of the Gallagher family, but Frank tends to lurk here more often than not. Sooner or later, he's going to have to face his irrational fear of seeing his red headed boy.

            "Sweetie... You may want to run in back for a bit..." Veronica warns with an edge in her voice.

            Mickey peeks up over the counter from the spot he was organizing glasses on the floor. Terry Milkovich storms into the building with a chip on his shoulder and a grim expression on his face. Mickey gulps and crawls stealthily around the corner to hide from his father. He's not entirely proud of hiding from Terry like a little kid, but Mickey has not seen him much since he came out and as far as Terry knows, his son is off hiding from the police in Mexico. Now is not a great time to stir up old shit, especially in his work place. 

            "Terry... What are you doing here?" Veronica asks calmly. She's not in the mood for trouble, but she'll gladly start something if the situation requires it.

            Mickey inches as close as he can get to the edge of the wall so he can listen in on the conversation that takes place at the counter. Terry looked horrible coming in. Cancer is taking an extremely heavy toll on him. He has never seen this father so tired and skinny before. The dark circles under his eyes are enough to make Mickey's skin crawl.

            "I'm a dying man, Veronica. I want to spend my last few months on this planet drowning in alcohol," Terry responds with a hoarse voice, followed by a bone rattling cough. "Is that so bad?" 

            Mickey is unsettled by hearing how pathetic his father sounds. Terry has never asked for much in his life. He usually always took without asking and waited for the consequences to come knocking on his door. It's unusual for him to be civil before cold and condescending.

            "Kev and I banned you from this place a long time ago, Terry. Did you forget that?" Veronica reminds him blandly. "You're not welcome here anymore."

            "You'll only have to deal with me for a few more months. What's a couple more drinks gonna do?" Terry questions bitterly.

            "It's gonna keep you around here when we don't want you to be," Veronica states with a false laugh. "We don't serve to people who _beat_  and _harm_ their children," she harshly insinuates.

            Mickey's eyes widen. He's not sure when Kev and Veronica started to defend the people in their bar so openly, but he's mildly grateful for it. If Terry is banned from the Alibi Room, then he won't be coming around much... unlike Frank Gallagher, who he has had to dodge on four separate occasions. At some point, he's going to have to put on his big boy pants and deal with it.

            "What are you trying to say, bitch?" Terry sneers.

            "You know exactly what I'm saying, Terry. You're a terrible old man I will not serve to someone as fucked up as you are," Veronica refuses. "Get the fuck out of my bar before I drag your sick white ass out."

            "Okay, listen here, skank. If you're referencing my fag of a son, he had it coming to him. I didn’t raise no faggot," Terry scolds with ice in his voice.

            "I'm sorry... What the fuck did you just call me?"

            That's when Mickey hears a glass shatter and a hiss of pain. Acting on impulse, he steps out from behind the wall and promptly walks back to behind the counter where Terry clearly threw a bottle of whiskey. Not only is Veronica partially soaked from it, but there's a pretty good cut on her arm from the glass that she has a hand clasped over to try and stop the bleeding. He wants to stop and make sure that she is okay, but he needs to handle his bastard of a father before he does anything. 

            "Okay, here's how this is going to go. You have two options, Terry," Mickey says fiercely. "You can either get the fuck out of the bar or I can beat you the fuck up for hurting Veronica. What's it going to be, shithead?" Mickey asks in a very threatening voice.

            Terry stares at his son with shock. "When the fuck did you get back into town?" He had hoped he'd never have to see Mickey again after what he did.

            "Doesn't matter. Now, am I going to have to beat a dying man with cancer or are you going to make the smart fucking decision?" Mickey snaps.

            Although he has an expression of resentment on his face, Terry grumbles under his breath and excuses himself from the bar. He knows better than to pick a fight with Mickey when he has the upper hand. No longer preoccupied with his father, Mickey turns to Veronica who is still clutching her bleeding arm with a look of concern on her face. She had never seen an encounter like that before between Terry and his son. 

            "Is he always like that?" She asks with a petrified voice.

            Mickey nods and pulls the first aid kit from behind the counter. "Pretty much, yeah. Do you want me to take care of that cut? You might have glass in it." He offers with a kind tone that almost feels foreign on his tongue.

            Veronica looks between her arm and Mickey almost as if she is shocked to hear him offer to do something so nice. Nodding, she walks around to the other side of the counter and takes a seat on one of the stools. Mickey follows her and pops open the kit to pull out the necessary items. Being mindful that the cut probably hurts, he grabs Veronica's arm to examine it for glass. Thankfully, she's clear and the tweezers will not be needed this time around.

            "This is not going to feel great,” he warns as he grabs the sanitizing wipes and prepares to clean the wound to prevent infection of any kind.

            Veronica curses as he begins to mop up the blood and he half expects her to slap him for causing her additional pain, but she refrains and instead clutches the counter. She almost finds this scenario funny because she has been through something as major as childbirth, but a simple cut from a shard of glass has her acting like a little kid again. After tossing the napkin, Mickey grabs gauze and a roll of medical tape to dress the wound. Having done this so many times in the past for wounds of his own, he is able to do this part quickly and effectively. Veronica looks at it in amazement and she does not have to ask to know why Mickey knows how to do this so well. She knows what kind of man Terry is and she knows what kind of person Mickey was. 

            "Thanks, Mickey. You've changed a lot since you went to Mexico. You used to only take care of Ian this way," She says warmly with a smile.

            Mickey shrugs his shoulders as he packs up the kit and throws away the bloody supplies. "The couple that looked out for me knocked me into shape, I guess. Their daughter was also super fuckin’ terrifying when she wanted to be. She uh… She got cancer and ended up losing her leg. I helped her learn how to walk and shit… Being nice has benefits, I guess."

            "Well don't let that go to your head. You're still a complete dickhead most of the time," Veronica teases with a giggle. “We love all you, though.”

            Mickey smiles a little, taking what she said as a complete joke, and returns to behind the counter to store the first aid kit. "And proud to be so. I wouldn't be a fucking Milkovich if I wasn't," he jokes in return.

            Without be asked to, Mickey bends down and starts picking up the glass from the bottle Terry threw in his pointless rage. Kev comes around the corner then with wide eyes and a jaw that hangs open. He clearly heard nothing of the argument or anything that happened within the last five minutes.

            "What the hell happened in here?" He asks. The sight of Veronica's arm has him itching with panic and he looks around the bar for the culprit he needs to beat up. He knew there was a good reason for why he keeps a baseball bat behind the counter.

            "Terry happened. He got pissed off and threw a bottle at me. Mickey patched me up real good," Veronica explains. "It's all good, baby." 

            Kev looks to Mickey who is on his knees cleaning up the mess. Somehow, Terry managed the break more than one bottle and there is liquid everywhere because of it. "That was pretty nice of you, kid. Do you wanna head home early? I can finish cleaning that up for you."

            Mickey looks up and tosses the glass shards into the nearby trash can. "Uh, yeah. Sure. I got some shit to handle at the apartment anyways," he says gratefully.

            Being kind feels weird for Mickey Milkovich. He's not used to doing it on impulse. The only person he was ever kind to because he wanted to be was Ian, like Veronica said, and he wonders if that's where he started to change. Carla and Gemma may have finished the job, but Ian definitely got it started. Scoffing to himself, he unties the apron around his waist and hangs it up before grabbing his coat and heading out into the chilly night. Little did he know, Terry would be waiting around the corner for him.

            "Oh, my _fucking_ god. Can't you take a fucking hint?" Mickey questions with irritation.

            Terry raises a hand as if to say he not looking for trouble and Mickey rolls his eyes. "Amanda took some money that was mine. All I want to know is where to find her. Believe me, I would rather not be talking to your faggot ass. You're lucky I don't have you fucking killed for what you are."

            Mickey, ignoring the threat, thinks back to the money Mandy used to get the apartment functional and how she took it from their uncle’s account after he died. He would not be surprised if the money was truly Terry's, but he's not about to give his father the answer to his question. He knows better than to give up his sister’s whereabouts when this is over money and Terry is more than likely to be dangerous given his new-found diagnosis. "You really think I'm going to help you with anything? Cancer must be fucking with your brain because in case you forgot, I fucking hate your ass."

            Terry is clearly still pissed from the encounter in the bar, but he cannot start anything major. He has a better chance at getting his ass beat than successfully swinging one fist at Mickey when he is so alert. As he tries storms off, Terry tries again. "Some of that fucking money was going to be sent to Yevgeny,” he clarifies.

            Mickey pauses in his steps. He has thought about that kid a lot, especially while he was away, but this is the first time he has ever heard about Terry trying to take care of one of the Milkovichs. He never gave a damn about his kids that he made and raised. "Why the fuck should I care? The money has been spent. It's fucking gone," he partially lies. He’s not entirely sure how much money Mandy put into a savings account, but he knows it’s way less than what Terry is looking for considering a lot of it was used on the apartment furnishings.

            "He's your son, faggot. My fucking grandson," Terry says bluntly.

            Mickey turns around with a rage in his eyes. All feelings of kindness he was feeling from helping Veronica has vanished and has now been replaced with unresolved aggression. "There's no fucking proof to prove that he's mine. Did you happen to forget that you were _also_ fucking Svetlana when you called her to rape me at gun point?" Mickey chastises.

            "Rape you? Is that what you think it was? As I recall, you were all fucking for it," Terry implies with another bloody cough that makes Mickey internally wince.

            "Oh, right. You like to think of it as gay conversion therapy. Well let me tell you... It fucking failed and I have continued to take it up the ass regardless because I fucking like it that way. It makes me feel good," Mickey says almost proudly. "And you can fucking live with it."

            Terry is disgusted and he hates Mickey with every fiber of his being. He regrets ever having made the abomination standing in front of him and he would kill him if he could. Hell, he might even try if given the shot. "Where's my fucking daughter?" He tries again.

            “Oh… you mean the daughter you also raped multiple times when you were drunk? Maybe I should have a talk with Mandy about that... I'm sure the cops would love to know what the fuck you do in your spare time.” Mickey questions bravely as he recalls the nasty truth that he found out one night.

            A rage fills Terry and he’s suddenly swinging his fist at Mickey’s face, no longer caring about who has the upper-hand in this situation. “What the fuck are you trying to fucking say, cunt? I’m going to fucking kill you!”

            Mickey dodges the punch easily and takes several steps back to put some distance between them. “You’re fucking pathetic. I hope you fucking die real soon, dad.”

            “Where is Mandy? Tell me or I’ll cut your fucking dick off and shove it down your throat!” Terry threatens boldly. "I'm going to fucking find her! You can't stop me, you fucking worthless piece of garbage!"

            Mickey shrugs his shoulders and turns to walk off again. "No fucking idea," he lies.

            Having no more tolerance for his father, Mickey walks away and pulls his jacket on to shield himself from the rain that has begun to lightly fall. Mickey only rarely mentions his rape that occurred during what was supposed to be one of his happiest moments, but he's proud that he did it tonight. It was a huge step forward for him. He put his father in his place and maybe, just maybe, he can begin to move on from it and let go of the long-held anger.

            The cold air burns his lungs as he sprints, but he does not stop. Carl clings onto his back and he continues to shout in his ear about how he needs to do better and go farther. Cursing, Ian pushes forward and he only sets Carl down when he reaches the designated finish line that has been made out of random cans that were found on the street along with some sticks. Light rain begins to fall from the sky and Ian looks up with a bland expression. He figured the rain would be showing up at some point, he just hoped it would be after he finished this extreme work out his little brother talked him into. In fact, he's not even sure why he's doing this. His plans for tonight had nothing to do with working out _or_ hanging out with Carl.

            "Thirty jumping jacks," Carl demands.

            Rolling his eyes, Ian begins and counts them in his head. Carl, however, decides to make it a challenge by throwing punches at him that he has to dodge unless he wants to end up sporting a busted lip at work. "Didn't you have some date tonight? Why are you coaching me?" Ian asks, looking to talk about something other than how slow he's moving.

            Carl shrugs his shoulders and there's something in his eyes that Ian can identify as sadness. "Kerrianne broke up with me cause I'm a Gallagher and she thinks we're trashy or whatever. She doesn't want me ruining her reputation..." He admits sadly.

            Ian stops doing squats to address this situation. Carl has had pretty much shitty luck with finding girls to be with, but this is a low blow. His little bother deserves better. "Hey, don't think about it. If she didn't want to be with you because of your name, then she wasn't fuckin' worth it. You can do better."

            Although he is still sad about it, Carl nods. "Yeah, I guess. Do you wanna go down to Patsy's to get some pie or something? I'm kinda hungry."

            Laughing, Ian zips up his coat and rubs his belly. "You want to go get pie after you just made me work my ass off? You're buying."

            Grinning, Carl walks promptly in the direction of Patsy's and Ian follows closely behind. They're about halfway there when they run into a figure on the street who Ian was hoping he'd never have to see again. He storms towards them and glowers at Ian once he's close enough to see who he's encountering.

            "Do you know where my fucking daughter is?" Terry demands.

            Feeling protective, Ian discreetly grabs Carl's arm and pulls him closer in case Terry tries anything irrational. "No. Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you where she is."

            Terry steps dangerously close to them and Ian can smell the alcohol on his breath. “You’re going to rot in fucking hell fag,” he threatens. “You and my faggot son.”

            Shrugging his shoulders, Ian smiles. “Guess I’ll be seeing you there, asshole.”

            Not wanting waste anymore of his time on Ian, Terry walks away and leaves the two of them on the street alone.

            “Should you warn Mandy that her dad is trying to track her down?” Carl asks.

            “Yeah, I’ll text her to let her know what's going on. Not sure why he’s looking for her…”

            Still on a mission for pie, Carl walks off and Ian follows behind slowly. Terry looked awful and he really hopes Mandy didn't do anything stupid because right now, he doubts Terry cares about whether or not he goes to jail again.

> **To: Mandy**  
>  **Hey, your dad is looking for you.**  
>  **Not sure why. Better lay low.**
> 
> **From: Mandy**  
>  **I heard. Thanks.**  
>  **Let me know if he gets close, yeah?**
> 
> **To Mandy:**  
>  **Of course**

            Shoving his phone into his back pocket, Ian enters Patsy's and walks directly over to the booth Carl grabbed for them. Plopping down, he looks over at this younger brother and he can still see the lingering sadness weighing on him from Kerrianne. "You know... Kerrianne will not be your last girlfriend. You'll find another, one that isn't so quick to judge." 

            Carl looks up from his menu and smirks a little, unsure of how he should be responding. He cared a great deal about Kerrianne and she left him so quickly. "I know... it just stings I guess. I really liked her. Thought we had something going on," he explains.

            Ian frowns and quickly decides on a plan on action. "Alright, one heartbreak special coming up. We're gonna eat pie until we puke." 

            Laughing, Carl sets his menu down and perks up with unexpected happiness. "Really? You just worked out for like an hour... You're willing to throw that all away?"

            "Fuck yeah," Ian declares. "My little brother needs me."

            Although he is still deeply worried about Mandy and what exactly Terry is looking for, Ian sets his concerns aside to focus on the problem at hand. He's sure, one way or another, the issue will work itself out. He just hopes that Mandy doesn't get hurt in the process.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah... Oh, Terry... always causing trouble and shit. I hate him. Which is exactly why I am going to kill him off at the right moment. How do you think Mickey will handle that?
> 
> THERE WILL BE ONE MORE CHAPTER UPLOADED TONIGHT AND IT IS A BIG ONE! GEEEEETTT REEEAAADDDDDYYYYYY!
> 
> Ohhhh my Tumblr is so slammed with Gallavich. I have no regrets.
> 
> As always, I apologize for typos.


	8. After all This Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terry shows up at Mickey and Mandy's apartment drunk and with a gun after chasing Mandy all the way home from the store. As World War Milkovich takes place, the police are called and Ian, who had just shown up to work, gets dragged into the action.

The loud slamming of the front door jars him from his nap.

            Mickey jolts upwards on the couch and stares at Mandy who frantically locks the deadbolt and presses her back up against the wooden door with the means to keep whoever it is on the other side out of their apartment. Just seconds ago Mickey had been experiencing probably the best nap of his life and now he’s faced with a situation that he cannot figure out. Mandy was only out to go to the store and she appears to have come home with nothing but fear in her eyes; the groceries she was out to get are nowhere in sight. Not knowing what's going on has him more than concerned.

            “What the fuck is happening?” He asks.

            Mandy does need to reply to answer Mickey’s question because Terry’s yelling from the hallway answers it all by itself. “Let me in your fucking whore! You stole my money! Let me in!” He screams as he pounds his fists against the wood.

            As his instincts kick in, Mickey jumps off the couch and his eyes widen. He would have much preferred to not handle any Terry drama today, but he should have known his father would not drop the topic of the money until he has the cash in his hands. This is not going to end well for somebody. “How the fuck did he find you? Didn’t I tell you to steer clear of him?” He demands as he walks over to the door.

            Mandy is in a state of hysterics. Whatever happened between going to the store and coming home has her riled up and terrified of their father who clearly chased her all the way home. “Yeah! You _and_ fucking Ian did. He must have fucking seen me somewhere, M-Mickey. I was only gone for ten minutes a-and I didn’t bring my phone with me. What do we do?”

            “Go fucking call the cops. I’ll hold the door,” he says as he gestures for his little sister to move away from her spot. Only, she doesn't move.

            “You want to bring the cops into this? Since fucking when?” Mandy asks in astonishment. It’s rare for the Milkovichs to get the law involved, but Mickey is unarmed in this house and he’s not in the mood for any additional crap tonight.

            “Since I kind of realized I don’t want to fucking go back to Mexico! Go call them, Mandy!” He orders over the banging.

            Although reluctant, Mandy moves away and skirts down the left hallway to track down her phone. Mickey presses his back up against the door as it rattles on the hinges from all of the pounding coming from the other side. In some shitty aspect, this is a great way to get a massage and it’s actually working out the knots Mickey has in his back from falling asleep on the couch so frequently. Having a real bed to sleep on is still an odd concept to him after spending the past four years on the street, on blow up mattresses, and whatever else Carla could find for him. Shaking the thought from his head, he brings himself back into reality.

            “I’ll fucking shoot you both! You and your fag of a brother! You’re fucking dead, cunt!” Terry threatens in his drunken rage.

            Mickey pinches the bridge of his nose with annoyance. Of course his father would show up armed. He probably still has access to all of the guns that were left behind in the house when he left town. “And tell him he has a fucking gun!” He calls out in hopes Mandy can hear him over the noise.

            This was not supposed to happen. Mickey figured that Terry would drop the whole money deal and move on with his life to die how he pleases, but instead Terry got himself drunk and he has been for the past three days. Between the cancer and the alcohol, all Terry could think about was the money and how Mandy took it before he could. It made him angry and that anger turned into bloodlust for his daughter and son. He has no plans of stopping now.

            Mickey uses all the strength he has in his legs and back to prevent Terry from breaking in. What he did not account for was the gun and the fact Terry was not stupid enough to show up with it unloaded. Aiming at the doorknob, Terry fires the first bullet and Mickey has to abandon his post to avoid getting shot at. More bullets tear through the door, sending splinters flying. Mickey runs across the room and leaps over the couch for an abysmal shield to both hide from the bullets and to hide from what is about to break through the front door. Out of the corner of his eye, Mickey can see Mandy standing in the hallway with her phone in hand. She uses her hands to wipe away her fallen tears from her face and Mickey starts to feel bad for her. His sister has not been the same since Kenyatta happened. Gesturing for her to get back, Mickey keeps an eye on the door. 

            “What do we do?” Mandy asks quietly.

            Mickey looks between the door and Mandy as he thinks up a plan. “The cops will be here soon. We just have to keep him occupied until then.”

            As if their father heard them, Terry rams his shoulder against the door repeatedly and Mandy yelps as it swings violently open and bashes into the wall hard enough to leave a dent. Mickey crouches back down and he crawls silently to the other side of the couch so he can see what’s happening without being explicitly spotted. Terry looks around the room for any sign of his children and when he fails to see either of them, he starts yelling again in his drunken rage.

            “Where the fuck are you, whore? I want my _fucking_ money!” He slurs.

            Mickey has only one advantage in this scenario. Terry has always been a terrible shot when he is drunk and pissed off. Knowing that he will harm Mandy if he sees her, Mickey pops up and skillfully dodges out of the way of the bullet that soars right past his head. He will not let Terry lay a single finger on his sister even if that means Mickey takes all of the hits and bullets. He’ll do anything to protect her. He has always been that way. 

            “The money is fucking gone, Terry,” Mickey reminds his father knowing that it will attract most of Terry’s rage. He has to get his attention off of Mandy.

            Enraged, Terry raises the gun again with the intentions to kill. Mickey uses this time to leap over the couch and ram into Terry as hard as he can.  The two slam against the wall and more shots are fired from the gun because of Terry’s trigger happy finger. Mickey punches his father left and right, hoping to knock some literal sense into the man and while he does so, he tries to grab for the gun. Without the gun, he can do a lot less damage.

            “The money is gone, dad! Leave us alone!” Mandy yells from the dining table.

            Mickey curses because now that Terry has seen Mandy, he will not stop. He wishes Mandy stayed hidden in the hallway or in her bedroom where should have remained safe until such a time the cops come and take Terry out of here and back to prison where he belongs. Before he can do anything, Terry slams his knee into Mickey’s crotch and Mickey doubles over in a large amount of pain that surges through his body. Mandy takes several steps backwards and fumbles around in the dimly lit room for the baseball bat she keeps hidden by the table. Unfortunately, she knows that a bat is useless in a gun fight.

            “I want my fucking money, whore,” he says again. "Give me my money or I will shoot you dead."

            Mandy shakes her head and just as Terry is about to pull the trigger and kill his daughter, Mickey runs forward and tackles Terry up against the wall. He smashes an elbow into the side of Terry’s skull, the soft spot high on the temple. Moving quickly, Mickey then slaps his right palm down on the Terry’s face, creating a satisfying crack as Terry’s nose shatters from the impact. Stepping back, Mickey slips on a piece of paper that had fallen from the table and as he goes down, he grabs the collar of Terry’s shirt to pull him down as well. The two roll and more shots are fired from the gun than Mickey can barely keep track of as a fist keeps trying to come in contact with his face. Mandy screams.

            Terry throws up his forearms like a shield blocking an aggressive attack, but Mickey manages to slip the side, push Terry’s elbows down and away, catches his head, and rolls him into the cheap wooden floor. Frantically, Terry tries to get his arm free so he can aim his weapon. Mickey does not try to stop the gun; he instead rolls his hand under Terry’s wrist, bends Terry’s arm over and back, and pulls him backward and down. Terry then skillfully sends a knee towards Mickey’s stomach and Mickey crashes off to the side as the wind is knocked out of his lungs. Terry gets on his hands and knees hurriedly, scrambling toward the busted front door. Mickey catches him and drags him to his feet and Mickey turns his hip as Terry tries to knee him in the groin again. The gun falls from Terry’s hand and with the only seconds Mandy has to think, she kicks it towards her brother. Mickey has the gun in his hand long before Terry slams into the floor again, and he uses it to hit him on the forehead two hard times.

            “Stay fucking put, Terry, or I will break both of your fucking knee caps,” Mandy threatens with the bat raised.

            Mickey scrambles away and he is proud to see that not all of the South Side has been drained from his sister. She’s still as bad ass as he remembers. This is the Amanda Milkovich he knows best and loves.

            “I want the money. Give me the fucking money and I’ll leave,” Terry barters as blood gushes from his broken nose. Mickey hopes it hurts.

            “Did you not hear what I just said? The money is gone and you’re fucked if you move,” Mandy reiterates.

            Smirking, Mickey stumbles over to the kitchen to pull a pack of peas from the freezer for the right side of his face that bleeds. For all he cares, Terry can stay in prison until he drops dead. Unanticipatedly, something warm begins to drip down Mickey’s arm and he glances at his left bicep to figure out the cause. Freaked out, he sets the gun down on the counter and grabs a wad of paper towel before a bigger mess can be made.

            “You have got to be _fucking_ kidding me…” He mutters in complaint.

            Mandy peaks into the kitchen to see what the complaint is about, but she barely has enough time to peak as Terry tries to make a run for it. Leaping forward, she tackles her father back down to the ground while Mickey pokes at his bullet wound with a scornful expression. Out of all the ways he has been woken up from a nap, he probably hates this one the most.

 

            Ian walks into work with a pounding headache. He yawns tiredly as he wonders his way to the back locker room where he plans to sit until further notice. Or, that was his plan, anyway. As soon as Ian walks in, his coworkers are already running around and jumping in the ambulance. Christie catches sight of him as the ambulance starts to pull out. She frantically waves him forward and Ian breaks into a sprint. Just barely does he make it on and Christie is having too pull him in by his coat to make sure he stays with her and not a smudge on the pavement.

            "There you are! We got a call, Ian. Where the hell were you?" Christie demands.

            Ian sheds his jacket and starts getting ready for whatever they are heading to. "I'm on time for my shift, Christie. What's going on? Anybody hurt?"

            Although Ian is right about being on time, Christie can't help but feel annoyed that he almost missed them by not being in the room a few seconds sooner. "Terry Milkovich flew off the handle again. Some random ass girl called, but she didn’t say much. All we know is there was a gun in play, neighbors have reported gun shots, and many others have called to report screaming, yelling, and presumably fighting. No word on injuries. We'll be the first to get there along with the first responders."

            Ian is mildly irritated that Terry is involved. The man is supposed to be dying and although he is a Milkovich, everyone assumed Terry would simply become an annoying distant memory that everyone tries to forget. Shaking off the thought, Ian slings his trauma bag over his shoulder and waits patiently to arrive on scene. After having this job for so long, Ian has become quite good at what he does. Only, his psychotic break last year and Fiona's tampering put a dent on things. He had to take a massive set back.

            Not only did his old coworker leave because of the entire ordeal, but Christie has taken her place and all Christie ever wants to do is ask Ian questions about his life to make sure he’s still sane to do his job. At one point in the past, he probably would have been willing to tell her anything she wanted to know, but circumstances have changed. He knows that if he says anything negative about his life, they will all use it against him some way. That has been the side effect of what Fiona did. It’s a miracle they’re even keeping him on the job now that _everyone_ knows he’s insane. He wishes he could go back in time and stop of what happened from happening. Not a day goes by where he doesn't feel like an idiot for it all. 

            At the scene, Ian and Christie jump out of the back and follow a police officer into the building. Ian has passed this building numerous of times on walks and runs, but he never quite realized that it's an apartment complex. It looks much nicer on the inside than it does on the outside and there could very well be a purpose behind that. The police officer takes them up to the front entrance of the apartment they need to be at and they all step aside as two more police officers come out with a rather resistant and handcuffed Terry Milkovich with a bloody face. Walking in, Ian takes a second to adjust to the scene before his eyes land on Mandy who sits uncomfortably on the couch. He should have fucking known that the situation involved her somehow. He knew Terry was looking for her.

            "Mandy? Are you alright?" Ian asks frantically. This changes the situation for him completely. He actually cares deeply for Mandy and her wellbeing. This is not some random run in and this is not some random person. This is Mandy. 

            "I'm not hurt. You need to help Mickey, though. He got shot trying to stop Terry from hurting me," Mandy says as she points to the kitchen.

            Ian spins on his heels and immediately finds Mickey fucking Milkovich standing up against the kitchen counter beside the fridge as he holds a bag of frozen peas to his face that have long since melted. His left arm has been poorly bandaged and it continues to ooze blood onto the floor. A wall of emotions rams into him like a tidal wave. His brain feels like it’s stuttering and his legs feel like Jell-O. Mickey is _right there_. He's standing no more than ten feet away from him... This has to be come kind of dream. Maybe he actually did fall out of the ambulance and hit his head hard enough to land himself in a coma. Gulping, Ian chokes back his feelings and moves forward because he is the only with the means to treat whatever is under that poorly made bandage. Mickey is just as shocked and insanely unsure of what to do as Ian is, but the fact that he has been shot in the arm has him more than a little distracted. Things will remain professional for now.

            “I got shot. It’s nothing major,” Mickey says blandly.

            Ian pauses and he points a look at Mickey because he just said getting shot is _nothing major_. He supposes, though, that’s what growing up on the South Side will condition a person to think. "Is the bullet still in there?" Ian asks as he sets the trauma pack on a clean counter top beside Mickey.

            Mickey pokes at the wound for a second because the thought never occurred to him until now. "I have no fuckin' clue. I think it's out. There might be an exit wound that I can’t see on the other side of my arm. Blood keeps leaking out of fuckin’ somewhere," he guesses as he tries to examine the back of his arm.

            Ian rolls his eyes and looks over his shoulder to yell at his coworker. "I'm treating this one here, Christie. It’s a simple fix."

            Christie stops talking to Mandy long enough to have an external freak out. She hates it when Ian does this. "Ian, if he was shot then he needs to go to the hospital. There are rules and health codes you need to follow. You could hurt him. There might be internal damage," she insists.

            "Yeah, you try telling a Milkovich they need to go to the fucking hospital. I'm treating him here. Suspend me if you want. I’ve done this before," Ian replies bluntly.

            Mickey can't help but laugh quietly. Ian never asked if he wanted to go the hospital to have this professionally done, he just knows after many years of refusal. To make it easier on the both of them, Mickey hops up onto the counter and he carefully rolls his sleeve all the way up to fully expose his left bicep. He hates getting shot in stupid situations, but it seems to happen to him all of the time and they always seem to occur when Ian is near.

            "Tell me what I need to know. Can you move your arm? How have you treated it so far?" Ian asks as he pulls tools, cleaning supplies, and bandages from his kit. He has inserted himself into temporary work mode.

            Mickey is getting a kick out of seeing Ian in action as he has never seen it before. If he was not the patient, he would be making snarky comments left and right about it. There are so many things he wants to say to Ian after all these years away, but he forces himself bite it all back for the sake of both of their mindsets. Now is not the time. "My arm is fine. It just hurts like a motherfucker. I left it alone because I figured you dweebs would be coming to sort it out. All I did was tape some paper towels to it. I don’t have a first aid kit in this place yet otherwise I would have fixed it myself.”

            Ian could easily comment about the nature of how Mickey has gone about taking care of the wound in his arm because he did it in one of the most South Side ways: Patch it up and hope it works and if it doesn’t, get more creative. "Maybe one of these days we'll pull a bullet out of you in a normal scenario. Pulling that bullet out of your ass on my kitchen counter was… interesting to say the least," he says with a grin –and _god_ did Mickey miss that grin– as he peels back the makeshift bandage to expose the bloody mess underneath it.

            Mickey rolls his eyes at the memory. That was not his proudest moment, but it is from one of his favorite days with Ian. That’s right around the time he really wanted to try to have something with Ian although it went against every personal moral code he set up to protect himself from Terry. "Yeah, thanks for the fucking reminder. I’m starting to think you’re a bad luck charm for bullets. You notice that?" He grumbles.

            Ian slightly smiles as he puts gloves on his hands and begins to clean the entry and exit wounds. The bullet appears to have done very little damage to the functionality of the arm and given all things considered, Mickey got lucky. Though, despite that luck, Mickey is currently trying to not curse up a storm because of how badly it burns for Ian to be wiping his special cleaning shit all over his arm. Instead, he thinks about how incredibly stupid it is for he and Ian to be finally seeing each other after all this time like this because Terry lost his fucking mind. This is not what he had in fucking mind. He wanted Ian to see that he has cleaned up and changed. This scenario only paints him to be the same person he used to be. Dirty and looking for trouble. The original Mickey Milkovich. 

            And maybe that’s how it should remain. Maybe he should stay away from Ian before he can infect his life once more. Mickey hates the idea of it, but it’s what he feels like he needs to do. Who knows what has happened in Ian’s life since the border? He could be married for all he fucking knows. Seeing Ian now makes him realize that it may be better to put an emotional barrier up between them before something terrible can tear them apart again. Hell, he doesn’t fucking know. He can barely think right now. Ian’s scent and his overall presence is fogging his mind and is bringing him back to when they last saw each other. Even though he's in uniform, he can tell Ian has been working out. He can tell by the way the blue shirt hugs his figure and by how his biceps flex with the intricate movements he's making. Deep down, behind all of the fear and conflicting emotions, he's fucking loving it. 

            "You're staring at me, you know," Ian points out as he grabs his stitching and suturing tools from the trauma kit.

            Mickey's eyes snap down to the floor with subconscious embarrassment. He had no idea he was staring in the first place. “It's a… It’s been a while since I saw you last,” he admits as he winces uncomfortably.

            Ian’s eyes flicker up to Mickey’s beautiful blue ones for a split moment and he can see the feelings Mickey is trying to fight off and the ones he’s currently dealing with. Confusion, uncertainty, anger. Mickey doesn’t know it, but Ian is feeling the exact same things. “What set Terry off this time?”

            “Mandy took some money out of our dead uncle’s account that he apparently wanted but let sit for months. We got into argument outside of the Alibi Room after he attacked Veronica… It could have been a million things. The guy is dying of cancer, you know?” Mickey explains.

            “What did you guys argue about? If you don’t mind me asking…” Ian questions as he carefully stitches Mickey up. He’ll be just fine if he takes care of his arm later on.

            Mickey takes in a deep breath and lightly shrugs his right shoulder as his left one cannot be moved. “A few things. He claims he wanted some of the money for Yevgeny… that lead to us arguing about what he has Svetlana do to me… the uh… the fuckin’ rape or whatever the fuck people want to call it… I think I mentioned what he did to Mandy too. It’s not like it fuckin’ matters anyways. All of it is history.”

            Ian is shocked. In all of the time since the incident with Svetlana, he has never heard Mickey address it for what it was. Even he, in Mickey’s absence, struggled to take it seriously and he feels sick for laughing at it now with Caleb. He hates who he was back then. “Don’t say that, Mick. It’s pretty fucking important that you put him in his place. That shit was…”

            “Fucked up?” Mickey finishes.

            Ian nods and wraps up Mickey’s arm carefully in medical grade gauze and bandaging. He then gestures for Mickey to drop the bag of peas from his face and he does without complaint. Mickey also spreads his legs as far apart as they’ll go to give Ian the room he needs to address his bleeding face. Ian knows that Mickey would be able to handle this portion on his own just fine, but he wouldn’t feel right if he didn’t at least make sure it was clean. That and it gives him and excuse to stand unreasonably close to him and have it look like it’s for the job.

            “How long have you been back in town?” Ian inquires softly as he mops up the excess blood from around the wound. He can smell Mickey’s scent now that he’s so close to him and it’s making his heart pound hard against his chest. Discreetly, he allows his gloved fingers to brush over Mickey's face to try and convince himself that this is, in fact, real. He figured he'd never see Mickey again and here he is. Alive, mostly healthy, and mostly in once piece.

            “Uh… a little while. A couple weeks. I’ve been busy helping Mandy around here and I got a job… so…” He responds awkwardly.

            Ian pauses his work to make brief eye contact with Mickey. The two hold each other’s eyes for a moment, but it’s Ian who looks away first. “You got a job? Like a real job? And it’s a legal one?” He asks slowly as if he heard something wrong.

            Mickey nods his head and cringes away from the butterfly bandages that Ian tries to put on after apply anesthetic. He'll do just fine without them, thank you very much. “Of course I got a fucking job. I got a second shot at life so I’m kind of trying to take it seriously. Besides, Mandy needs help with the rent.”

            So, this is why Mandy came home. All of the pieces click into Ian’s head. She came home to set this place up and although he’s not entirely sure why she did it three months before the news of Mickey’s case was revealed, it still makes more sense than it used to. Mickey is the roommate Mandy was referencing to when they sat down and had coffee and Ian knew something was fishy when she refused to tell him who it is. He feels like an idiot for not realizing way sooner. Mickey coming home was the plan all along.

            “Alright, so I’m gonna stick you in a sling for a few weeks. You can knock it down to two if you are careful. I’ll come by to pull the stitches out soon, Mandy has my phone number. Or if you don’t want me to do it, I’m sure you know how. Take anti-inflammatories for swelling and I’m going to give you some standard antibiotics for infection. No visits to the hospital as long as you take care of it,” Ian explains. He looks over to his trauma kit and pulls an arm sling and a small bottle of white pills from it. Carefully, he helps Mickey into the sling and hands him the bottle of pills. “Take the antibiotics three times a day for three days,” he instructs.

            Mickey nods and sets the bottle down. “Do I owe you anything? Like… money? I don’t got much, but I could toss a few bucks your way.”  
  
            Ian smiles and laughs quietly. “Technically, yes. But I’m going to cover it so don’t worry. I’m probably going on suspension anyways.”

            Christie walks up behind Ian with an annoyed face. “Suspension is right. You’re off the job for two months. Quarter pay,” she says sternly.

            “Two months is a little fuckin’ extreme don’t you think?” Mickey asks with wide eyes. "People gotta live and fucking afford shit."

            Christie smiles a little and it makes Ian roll his eyes. She always views herself as better than everyone on the South Side. He’s not even sure why she bothers with working at the station she does. “Mr. Milkovich, Ian has been under careful watch since his serious psychotic break that happened a little while ago. Any slip ups require immediate consequences. Boss’ orders.”

            Sickened by the fact Christie so openly brought up his break in the most unprofessional way, Ian scoffs. “I get it, Christie. Thank you for being the insufferable bitch everyone knows and hates,” he snaps.

            Smirking, Christie walks off. Mickey, feeling defensive looks to Ian. “Ian, you don’t have to put up with that shit.”

            Shrugging, Ian slings his trauma kit onto his shoulders and sighs deeply. “I kind of do. I’m throwing all of the money I’m earning into savings account so I can get the fuck out of my house. I need the job.”

            Mickey wants to say something to make Ian feel better, but he has been absent in his life for so long. He barely even knows where to begin. He could say all of the things he used to in hopes the would work, but he's not entire sure if he should take that risk. “Right…” He fails.

            “I uh… I hope to see you around, Mick. It was good seeing you,” Ian says sincerely with a soft smile on his lips.

            Mickey wants to agree, but he bites it back. He has no idea what he’s going to do and he remains frozen on the counter top until everybody clears out. So that's it. He and Ian finally saw each other. It was only a matter of time, he knows, but that still does not take away from the fact that it happened. His heart is practically screaming at him for being such an idiot. He should have said something, something that actually fucking matters. Instead, he remained quiet and emotionally unavailable. 

            “…I had no idea he was going to show up, Mickey,” Mandy says quietly.

            Shaking his head, Mickey hops down from the counter. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

            Frowning, his sister takes a seat on one of the bar stools. She can see how disturbed he is after that encounter and she could make a safe bet to say that seeing Ian has him more off put than getting shot by Terry. “He said he wanted to see you again…” She leads on.

            “Did you not hear me when I said I didn’t want to talk about it?” Mickey snaps as he grabs for a beer in the fridge. He doesn’t even want to think about the mess he will have to clean up tomorrow thanks to Terry and the fuckwad that he is.

            “Come on, Mickey. Don’t shut him out just because you don’t know how to handle your emotions,” Mandy begs.

            Pissed off, Mickey turns around and glares darkly. “Don’t talk to me about shit you know nothing about. You skipped town. You weren’t here for it.”

            Hurt, Mandy remains silent and she allows Mickey to storm off to his bedroom. He’s not entirely sure what he’s going to do, but he knows that, for right now, he needs to step back and think carefully. He’s back in town and Ian knows it now. Everything just changed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are gonna get ugly before they get better. My apologies. See you guys soon with the next chapter!
> 
> (I am SO excited for chapters 13, 14, 18, 19, 21, and a few others to come out. I put a lot of work into them and I really hope you guys will enjoy them once they do finally publish. I also went ahead of my writing and wrote chapter 44. That one is pretty paaaaiiinnnfffuuul for reasons you will begin understand on chapter 36. If it makes you all feel better, chapter 45 makes it all better. All I have to do is write the left over 10 chapters and the story is complete!)


	9. At the End of The Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey has let himself go in the aftermath of seeing Ian. He struggles with knowing what to do and after he receives some solid advice from Gemma, he decides to follow his gut. At the same time, Lip asks Ian to do a huge favor for him and that favor, as the night goes on, turns into something much more. 
> 
> THIS WILL BE YOUR ONLY WARNING: This chapter includes some smutty content. As I have smut tagged in the tags and have this story rated as explicit, I will not be including another smut warning from this point forward.

The alcohol burns his throat as it goes down. It has been a painfully long few days.

            He has no shame to say that he has been wallowing in his emotions for the past seventy-two hours and he has no idea what to do with himself. It's borderline pathetic. He could make all of this go away by doing what his heart wants him to, but he could destroy so much by doing so. Not knowing is eating him alive, even more than it ever did back in Mexico. There was no possible way to prepare for this. Never in a million fucking years could he be ready to face the things he feels when the context has been torn to shreds. He always thought that if he ever got the chance to see Ian again, it would feel good and would relieve more than half of his crowding thoughts. Little did he know, it would have the exact opposite effect. This is much worse than he could have imagined and no amount of alcohol could fix this. Knowing that he needs some form of advice before he lets himself slip too far down the drain, he reaches for his phone that rests on the nightstand. 

 

 

> **To Gemma:  
>  ** **Got a minute?**
> 
> **From Gemma:**  
>  **Of course! What is going on  
>  ****with my favorite white boy?**  
> 
> **To Gemma:**  
>  **I saw Ian a couple days ago. Not sure**  
>  **if I should insert myself back in his  
>  ** **life or not.**
> 
> **From Gemma:**  
>  **¡Eso es maravilloso! Why would  
>  ** **you want to stay away from such a  
>  ** **beautiful boy, Mickey?**

            Truth be told, he honestly has no idea. Sure, he could continue to lie to himself and say that he doesn’t want to ruin Ian’s life, but he knows it goes much deeper than that. It always has. A lot happened between them and a lot has happened to them in their time apart.  

 

 

> **To Gemma:**  
>  **I’ve been gone for 4 years.**  
>  **his life has probably changed n shit.**  
>  **I dont want to ruin that.**  
>  plus we got shit in our way
> 
> **From Gemma:**  
>  **Did he say he wants you to  
>  ** **stay away?**
> 
> **To Gemma:**  
>  **No… He said he wants to see  
>  ** **me again. I guess.**
> 
> **From Gemma:**  
>  **You have much to learn, Mikhailo.**  
>  **I’m 19 and I seem to know more about**  
>  **love than you do. Your Ian said he wishes**  
>  **to see you again. I suggest you stop telling yourself  
>  ** **you need to stay away.**
> 
>   **To Gemma:  
>  ****Hes not ‘my’ anything**  
> 
> **From Gemma:**  
>  **Ah, but that’s where you are wrong.**  
>  **He is everything for you and he will never  
>  ****be yours again unless you go get him.**  
> 
> **To Gemma:  
>  ****Should I wait until Im... less drunk?**  
> 
> **From Gemma:  
>  ** **Mikhailo… yes.**

            He could almost hear the annoyed sigh in her text and he fucking loves it. Rolling off his bed, Mickey puts the cap back on the whiskey. He has a lot of cleaning up to do if he’s going to see Ian again and the first thing he should probably handle is his appearance. He looks like absolute hell. His scruff is out of control and much like everything else, he generally looks trashed and worn out. This is how he looked years ago and this is not how he wants to look now. Sighing, he clumsily reaches for his shaving cream and razor from the medicine cabinet and although he is down an arm, he's determined to make this work. There is no way he's going to let himself slip up again after all the work he has put into making himself functional again after all of the damage that was thrust upon him before leaving for Mexico. Gemma would probably have a coronary if that happened and quite frankly, that scares the shit out of him.

            Using a towel, he wipes the excess cream from his face and he examines his shaving job in the mirror. For only having one hand, he did a pretty damn good job. From underneath the sink, he pulls a pair of Mandy's scissors and an electric razor. It's challenging, but he pulls his shirt off and begins to snip away at the mop on his head. Bits of black hair fall into the sink and dust his broad shoulders, creating a black mess that Mandy would kill him for if he were to leave it behind. This is how he's supposed to look. Clean and orderly... or, at the very least, he can appear to be orderly. Being organized has never been a strong suit of his when his father insisted on trashing the house anytime him or his siblings spent the day cleaning it. One time, him and Mandy spent hours on the bathroom and Terry wrecked it by breaking the mirror and vomiting all of the place. They were just little kids back then and it was shortly after the accident with their mom.

            Blinking away the thought, Mickey brushes himself off and wonders back to his room to find a shirt that fits him. He can do this. If he postpones it, Gemma and Mandy are more than likely to kick his ass. There are not many women in his life that he spends time with, but they are the most fierce and powerful women he has ever encountered and he knows better than to screw around with them. Laughing to himself, he grabs his belongings and heads out into the chilly evening. He can do this. He has to.

            "Hey, did you hear that Jimmy and Fiona finally chose a month for their wedding?"

            Ian looks up at his older brother from his laptop and nods his head curtly. "March, right? I think I heard Jimmy talking about it on the phone on my way out this morning. I'm honestly surprised they're going through with it. Jimmy was... an interesting man when his wife or whatever was around."

            Lip plops down on the bean bag beside Ian and sips on his to go coffee. He discreetly peers over onto Ian's screen to see what he's doing. All he's looking at it banking stuff and local apartment complexes for him to possibly move into. "You're serious about this moving out thing, aren't you?"

            Ian closes the lid to his out dated laptop for the sake of his privacy and he shoots a troublesome glance at Lip. The two of them have been very open with each other ever since his last break and while he is grateful for that, he has grown a little tired with having to explain himself. "What else am I supposed to do? The shit with Fiona is... shit. I'm trying to forgive her for what she did, but I... I can't think in that house, Lip. If I want to get some time alone, I have to leave and go find somewhere quiet or else she's going to keep breathing down my neck about moving on from that shit."

            Lip shifts around on his bean bag and twists it around so he can face Ian without having to crane his neck. "Do you think there's a possibility of you guys going back to normal?"

            "I would like to think so, but I doubt it'll be perfect. She's our sister and she basically fuckin' raised us, but she screwed me over so badly and went behind my back. It's a miracle I still have a fucking job. Fuck… It was a blessing they let me take back my job after I left that Gay Jesus shit behind…"

            Ian looks out the window and sighs heavily. If there was a way to skip over all of the shit he has to handle, he would gladly do it. His brain feels like it has been shoved deeply into a blender and all of his thoughts are coming back out less than coherent. Lip notices his brother's struggles and he would do anything to provide a healthy alternative, but it's hard when he himself struggles with the same problems. They're a lot alike in that area and it makes their bond stronger somehow.

            "Alright, well... I came over here to ask you for a favor," Lip begins slowly and Ian nods. "I was supposed to go meet this guy for a work deal, but I can't go. I got slammed with shit at school and I'm really starting to question why I even went back. Do you think you could go for me? All you gotta do is meet him at some bar and have dinner to talk shit over."

            Slightly caught off guard, Ian sits up and scratches the back of his head. This is not exactly his area of expertise. "I don't know the first thing about your job, Lip. I don't wanna mess something up for you."

            "It's not like that. All you gotta do is talk me up and make me sound like I know what I'm doing. This guy is offering to be a benefactor, which would be a huge boost for the garage, but he wants to know what he's getting himself into before he does," Lip explains anxiously.

            Knowing that he cannot turn his brother down when he has done so much for him lately to get him back on his feet, Ian nods. It's not like he had much going on tonight as it is. The most he had to do was run to the store to buy more socks because his keep going missing. He's almost certain the mystery has something to do with Carl, though. The poor kid is growing faster than Fiona can keep up with. "Alright, yeah. I'll do it as long as you give me money to pay for food. I'm broke."

            Laughing, Lip pulls out his wallet and he tosses a couple of twenties onto Ian's lap for him to collect. "Thanks. You're saving my ass big time."

            As Lip walks away, Ian finds words that he had not planned on saying flying out of his mouth. "Mickey is back. I saw him."

            Lip's feet come to a screeching halt and he turns back around to face his brother. He figured he would hear those words eventually. "You did?"

            Ian nods uneasily and stuffs his laptop into his bag. "I was working. Christie said Terry Milkovich broke into an apartment and there was a gun in play. I didn't know until I got there that it was Mandy's apartment. Mickey was there... he got shot trying to protect Mandy. That’s kind of why I’m suspended. I treated him on site instead of hauling his ass to the hospital."

            Although he would like to say that he is shocked, Lip is not. That has got to be one of the most 'Milkovich' entrances ever. "Shit, Ian... I gotta get to class otherwise I'd talk to you about it. Catch me tonight, yeah?"

            After Ian nods, Lip dashes out of the library and he is left alone with his thoughts once more. Seeing Mickey has been fucking with his mind. He wishes he had connected the dots a lot sooner than he did. Mandy was leaving hints left and right, but he was too oblivious to notice. Sometimes he wonders how he made it this far in life if he can't even recognize that Mandy would never come back to the South Side unless there was a very good reason behind it like the return of her older brother. He should have known better, but he figures it doesn't matter now.

            Mickey is back in town and he has no idea what to do about it. For everything that he has been through in the past year and some months, he knows for sure that he wants Mickey back in his life. the only question left is how he wants him. There are feelings hidden beneath his thoughts that he knows are going to get in the way sooner or later and he has no idea how Mickey feels about him after the four year gap they have between them that had been broken up by some brief appearances of each other and a couple session in which they did a _little_ more than talk. Most days, he wishes he went to Mexico instead of fucking up his life more than it already was at the time. He made a mistake.

            “You must be Ian. Lip’s brother, yeah?”

            Ian looks up from the napkin he was folding into an airplane and smiles. "Yeah. I'm going to assume you're William, right?"

            The blonde boy nods and slides into the opposite side of the booth. "That's me. I was sorry to hear Lip could not make it. Was there a specific reason behind that?"

            Ian leans back against his seat and folds his hands in his lap. He has no idea if he should be treating this dinner as completely professional or if there is room for jokes. "He had something pretty important come up that he couldn't get out of. He's very hard working, but sometimes becomes a little too slammed for his own good."

            William nods as if he understands and he orders a salad when the waitress comes up to take their order. "I like a man that works hard. It's a good sign of greater things to come."

            Ian briefly squints his eyes as he tries to read in between the lines. Did William just try to flirt with him? "Uh, yeah. I get that. I can assure you that Lip works hard every day. Between work and school, he also helps out around the house to make sure our younger siblings are still functional."

            Smiling, William pulls out a manila folder from within his dark blue blazer that brings out the green in his eyes. "So... Phillip has been working at this garage for about five years now. Would you say that he enjoys his time there?"

            "Well, to be honest... I think he hated it at first. At that time, he was going through a lot. My brother was struggling for a while with his addiction before he found passion in the work and completely invested in. He changed majors at school to study engineering and auto repair," Ian explains as smoothly as he can. He has no idea if Lip mentioned his alcohol problem to this guy or not, but it sounded right coming out.

            Coming back with two Cobb salads, the waitress leaves the plate on the table with a coke for Ian and a beer for William. She smiles at the two of them and leaves them to enjoy their meal to which Ian thanks her. He will be leaving a tip behind just because she has been kind to him all night as he waited for the other to show up. He won't even mention how late he is.

            "Glad to hear it. Your brother seems like a dedicated man. Now, would you say you and your brother are a lot alike? How do you manage your day to day life?"

            Ian pulls his eyebrows together in confusion. He's not entirely sure what this has to do with Lip and this whole benefactor business, but he will not risk losing it for Lip. He promised he'd answer any questions asked of him. "Lip and I are both really hard working. I'm an EMT, so I spend a lot of my time treating people and saving lives, I guess. A lot like Lip, I also help with our siblings and spend a lot of my time working hard to make sure the path in front of me is clear," he slightly bullshits. Although he works and does what he can to manage his life, he knows Lip works three times as hard. It was a huge decision to go back to school and although it will help set his future, it is also wrecking it by making it four times as hard for Lip to stay away from alcohol. He has been struggling.

            William grins and he lightly bumps into Ian's foot on purpose even though Ian is trying to see it as an accident. "I see. You seem to really know what you want in your life. Guys like that get the gold. I'm sure you can relate to the assessment?"

            "Actually, I can't. Look... My brother and I are from the South Side so if you think we were born into a normal family with normal standards, you're wrong. My siblings and I have pretty much raised ourselves. We have no idea where we're gonna land in our lives. We only hope that it's far and good enough to continuing living. So, if you're only partnering with my brother because you think he's a gold mine of great fortune and a beautiful past, please keep looking," Ian reveals. He probably should have kept all of that to himself, but he felt it needed to be said. William should know what he's getting himself into by offering to become a benefactor to a garage that fixes up more than just cars and bikes. That garage saves lives daily.

            William seems taken aback by the revelation and although it does shift the mood for the night, he's glad Ian was upfront about it. "You're honest. I like that. It's not often that you find honest people in this line of work. Being from the South Side does not change my opinion on you or your brother, Ian. That only furthers my belief that you two are very strong people."

            Because that was not the reaction Ian was expecting, he remains silent. Most people tend to look down on the kids from the South Side because they're under the impression that everyone from there is a no good trouble maker. It baffles him that William took the revelation so smoothly.

            "Look, Ian... I'm not gonna lie to you. I am more than ready to sign on as a benefactor. The whole point of the dinner was to determine the kind of people I am gonna be working with and I can see that there will be no mistake in doing this," William confesses.

            More than relieved that he didn't completely jack this meeting up, Ian smiles slightly and forces himself to start eating along with William. "Oh... That's great. That's good news."

            As the two of them eat in silence, Ian notices that William is watching him and not in the professional manner. That is when it suddenly occurs to him that Lip had nothing going on tonight. He set him up in hopes William would start hitting on him. Lip used a professional meeting to get his brother to go on a date neither of the boys at the table agreed to. Yeah, Lip is going to get an earful later. 

 

            Mickey stands across the street with his hands shoved deeply into his pockets. Ian is there at the bar sitting in front of somebody he does not recognize. He’s laughing and smiling and he appears to be genuinely fucking happy. As He watches from where he stands, his heart sinks lower and lower. Ian has moved on with his life. How could he not? He did what Mickey should have. In all the time in Mexico, he knows he should have been spending some of it on moving on with his life. Instead, he held on because it was the only thing that felt real at times. What the fuck was he even thinking? How could he be so willing to listen to Gemma when she knows very little about what has happened between them?

            The answer is simple, really. He was looking for a reason to pursue this and hearing what Gemma had to say made the most sense. In her words, she convinced him that Ian would be ready and to see him so happy now… It’s making him feel nauseous. He wants nothing more for Ian to remain happy and to live the life he deserves and as it would seem... it looks like Ian needs to do this without him. All he believes he is, for everything he has done to change, is an infection and he’s one that will wreck his past lover’s world. He’s South Side trash and he always will be. Ian doesn’t need that in his life anymore.

            Walking away with a weight on his shoulders, Mickey picks a direction a just goes. He's not sure how he let himself become so foolish to believe that his love life would resemble anything close to an unfinished fairy tale. He was an idiot to think that everything would go back to how it was and he's embarrassed by it. How could he have let himself become so oblivious to the world around him? This is the first time in four years that he has been back home. The world moved on. Nothing is the same and although that is a tough pill to swallow, he has to let go.

            “Forgive me if I’m over stepping... Do you wanna get out of here?” William asks nervously as he twirls his beer around between his fingers.

            Ian is surprised he actually had the balls to ask. The whole time they have been sitting here once the business shit was handled, William has been a ball of nerves and most of his sentences have been coming out as jumbled messes. It's almost cute. “Uh, sure,” he agrees.

            Grinning practically from ear to ear, William leaves some cash on the table and they head out into the night. Ian follows along even though he’s not entirely sure where they are going. They keep walking until they show up at what Ian believes is William’s fancy car and when he says it's fancy, he means it. This is the kind of car Jimmy used to drive back when he was still doing what he did when he first met Fiona. The car is parked on a particularly dark part of the street where nobody walks towards: it's the perfect spot.

            William turns and pushes Ian up against the driver’s side door, making Ian's breath catch in his throat. There is not much time to prepare before William is pressing his hungry lips onto Ian's surprised mouth. He kisses him back and tries his best to match the fever that seems to have infected William, but it's difficult. Hands run up and down his body and his scarf falls onto the ground along with his coat. He presses his hips against William's and slips his hand down to his crotch to find him half hard and needy for attention.

            "I have been thinking about doing this ever since I laid eyes on you," William confesses as he bites at Ian's collarbone sensually.

            Laughing anxiously, Ian rests his head against the car and tries to shove aside his thoughts so he can focus on how good it feels to have William grinding on him and playing with his nipples below his shirt. His dick is becoming hard and restless with the need to put into something. He's trying to imagine bending William over the hood of his car and stretching him out with his long fingers. With his eyes closed, he can envision this, but it is not William that he is bending over the car. It's a certain black-haired boy that he should _not_ be thinking about right now. He cannot help it. His mind can only see him ramming into him and how wonderful his moans sound as they ring out. It's a filthy thought, but it's one he's allowing himself to save into. He can imagine how tight he always was and how he enjoyed watching his face as he reached a climax. Soon, it is not William who is rubbing himself onto Ian... It's Mickey.

            _This is not right_. Breaking away, Ian pants and shakes his head. William looks up at him and he can tell what kind of thoughts are going through his mind. Scooting back, he gives Ian the room needed to catch his breath and collect his thoughts. “I’m sorry…” William apologizes wholeheartedly.

            Ian turns and grabs his jacket from the ground along with his scarf. He feels horrible for having done this. “It’s not you. There’s just…”

            “Someone else,” he finishes.

            Ian nods and William seems to understand. Maybe he has been in Ian's shoes before. "Can't have em' all. I hope you have a good night, Ian."

            Unsure of what to say, Ian smiles weakly and turns on his heel to find his way back home. He has no idea why his mind went in that direction. It appears seeing Mickey has done more damage than he thought. Nevertheless, there are no excuses for what happened. He should have been more aware of how he was feeling inside. The moment he realized William had more than a profession interest in Ian, he should have addressed it. Hell, he could have lied and said he had a boyfriend to spare William from embarrassment. Sighing, Ian allows his head to hang low in self-disappointment. Tonight was not supposed to go like this.

            Slamming the front door, Mickey storms into the house and throws his keys onto the linoleum counter top. Mandy jumps at the sudden noise and she has to set aside her laptop to address her brother properly – work will have to wait. Angrily, he reaches into the fridge and grabs for one his beers only to realize he drank through them all already.

            "God _fucking_ damn it..." He mutters.        

            "Mick... What's wrong?" Mandy asks carefully. She can tell there is something bothering her brother and she could make a pretty damn good guess on what could be the source of the trouble considering he has spent the past three days drinking himself into oblivion. This is her chance to be a good sister to him. Redemption has to start somewhere.

            Frustrated, Mickey turns on his heel and gestures to the front door. "I don't fucking need him, Mandy. I can be happy. I can live my fucking life. So why can't I fucking drop it and move the fuck on?"

            Mandy's eyes widen with brief shock. "What are-"

            "-This is so stupid. I feel like I'm back in fucking high school trying to process my emotions like a fucking hormonal teenager. I spent almost four years in Mexico living a new life and I come back here... and it feels the fucking same. And everybody fucking expects me to forgive him so easily. Do you-"

            "-Mickey, take a breath. I know Ian is not perfect. You can't-"

            "-I didn't fucking ask for this. I did everything for him and he threw it all away. I should have moved on by now and as much as everyone thinks I do, I don't fucking need him anymore. I don't-"

            "- _Mickey!_ " Mandy yells over her brother’s loud voice that was only going to get louder until he screamed his vocal chords to shreds. "Take a fucking breath, will you? I get that you're upset, but take a minute, okay? You’re turning fucking red. What happened?"

            Realizing that she is right, he takes a deep breath and uses his one hand to lean on the counter comfortably. He had no idea he was yelling. "I'm sorry... I just... It's not as easy as everyone makes it look," he says in a calmer voice. "You and pretty much fucking everybody wants me to run towards him, but you don't know half the shit we went through. And then I get it into my head that it's a good fuckin' idea..." 

            Moving from the couch to go sit at the bar, Mandy takes a second to adjust to the tone. It's not all that common for her brother to lash out like that anymore. He had his moments when he was a kid, but his lashing out stopped a _long_ time ago. "It's never easy and it's never going to be. We're Milkovichs, Mick... We love harder than anyone. You loved him, but you gotta focus on what matters most. _For_ _example_ , why are you so angry?"

            Shaking his head, he opts for a glass of orange juice instead of the beer he was looking for. It's time for a break on the alcohol. "He wants to see me again, he told me that when he fixed up arm. But I don't know if that's a good idea. When I left today, I got it into my head that maybe it was and I went to go find him. He was at a bar with some guy having a good time and I... I just realized it's not fucking worth it. He's happy."

            Mandy shifts in her seat sadly. She's knows the truth in the situation. "Just because someone looks happy does not mean they are. I can't tell you what he was doing, but I can assure you it wasn't what you think. Look, life is constantly testing all of us. You need to take some time to figure out how you feel before you see him again."

            Unsure of what else to say, Mickey gives his sister a meaningful look before walking off to his room. He needs to take some time to stitch his mind back together again. Today has been a clusterfuck of high hopes and low blows. Maybe, somehow, he can find a balance... but tonight is not that the right time. Tonight is the time for adjustment and he's okay with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes. I can't make this easy, can I? 
> 
> I am almost certain that I jacked up the plot line somewhere and because of that, I will be going back to check to see... But to put this in perspective, IF the Shameless seasons took place in a new year every time, this story would essentially be season 10/10.5  
> That means, Kev and Veronica's girls are about 4 or 5 years old and Yevgeny is about 4 or 5 years old. Ian is 22 or 23 and Mickey is 24 or 25.
> 
> TRANSLATION: ¡Eso es maravilloso! - That's wonderful! 
> 
> SEASON NINE SPOILER: By the way, Shameless did not feel right without Ian in it. Not that I was happy with where they took his character in the first place, but still. At least we got Gallavich End Game... In prison..........  
> I'm not sure what the show is going to do once Fiona is gone as well. Probably crash and burn.
> 
> EDIT: These questions were submitted into my ask box on Tumblr, so I will answer them here:  
> Q: I hate Jimmy. Why is he in this story and why did you make Fiona go back to him?  
> A: Honestly, there are more mentions of Jimmy then there are actual appearances of Jimmy. As I have lightly stated every now and then, he is not the Jimmy that we were introduced to when he came back. Instead, this Jimmy is much like the one we met in season one. He just lies less and lives a more quiet life.  
> Q: WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU BRING BACK KENYATTA?! I SEE HIM IN YOUR CHARACTER LIST!!!  
> A: I KNOW, I'M SORRY. He was honestly the only throw away character that worked with what I have planned, so I decided to use him. He will not, in no way, be a main character. Do not worry, Mandy and him will not be a couple in my story. He's an abusive fuck and he is only in this story to push a plot twist that I have planned.  
> Q: Why does your writing suck so much???  
> A: Why does your comment suck so much? 
> 
> THANK YOU TO MY READERS! It means, once again, so much to me that you are taking the time to read this as I have put so much work into it. I know the first few chapters were kind of rocky and scattered, but I can promise that is changing. Now that the boys are back in one place, it's a little easier for me to write. -Jade Williams


	10. Try to be Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not long after what took place at the apartment, Mickey returns to work. Only, he was not expecting Ian to show up and sure as hell was not planning on having a long conversation with him about where they stand.

**November**

He glares down at his sling with exasperation as he shoves past the door to the Alibi Room.

            There is a lot of activity going on in the bar tonight. Mickey takes a second to process all that is going on and he unexpectedly finds himself wishing he had more than a week off of work. Sighing, he takes his jacket off of his shoulders and hangs it up on the coat rack beside Kev’s leather one. Veronica’s coat is there too so she must be around somewhere in the back. Knowing that he would rather not stand around like an idiot who cannot tie his apron around his waist, Mickey decides to go without it tonight and shoves his way to behind the counter to begin working. Kev is there serving a drink to Tommy, but he freezes at the sight of Mickey's face.

            “Holy fuck, kid. What the hell happened to you?” He asks as he gestures to the bruising on Mickey’s face and the sling that holds his busted arm.

            “Terry fucking happened. He’s a nutcase. He showed up at my apartment with a fucking gun, piss drunk, and out of his goddamn mind,” Mickey explains bitterly. He’s a little tired of telling the story by now.

            “You know… I think I saw something on that or one of the Gallaghers mentioned it. Is Mandy okay?” Kev continues on with genuine concern. Mickey had no idea Kev cared enough about his sister to ask about her. What the hell went on in this town while he was gone?

            “She’s perfectly fine. I’m the one that kept Terry away from her. I got fucking shot, but whatever. It’s not the first time and I doubt it’ll be the last if I continue to live in this shithole of a town,” he recalls with a one-armed shrug that ends up shifting his sling into an uncomfortable position.

            Kev reaches for a shot glass and he fills it with Mickey’s favorite whiskey. “You deserve a fucking drink, man. Not many men defend the women in their life. You’re the hero of the butt buddies. The best of the best.”

            Mickey takes the drink, but he is having a hard time believing something like that just came out of Kev’s mouth. “I swear to god if you ever say something like again, I’ll knock your fucking teeth out," he partially threatens as he knocks back the alcohol and swallows the bitter taste quickly.

            Kevin smiles broadly and takes the glass back once he is done with it. Mickey is glad that he has been adopted into some weird ass support system, but he has no idea why everybody is being so tolerant of him or why they care about his wellbeing. Hardly anybody cared about him towards the end of his time here. He’s not even sure if Ian cared all that much. Shaking off the thoughts, Mickey turns to the customer who has been waiting beside the bar and he immediately wishes he hadn’t. Frank Gallagher smiles at him and waves a wrinkled five dollar bill around.

            “What do you think this can get me, Mikhailo? Something tasty I hope.”

            Mickey looks between the worn out bill and Frank’s face before rolling his eyes and pointing towards his boss. “Go bug Kev, Frank. I’m not dealing with your crusty high ass.”

            Disappointed, Frank slides down the bar to Kev and Mickey uses the seconds he has to readjust his sling before another customer walks up to him. The customer is smiley and overly giddy and although he has several insults he would like to throw in the man’s face, he holds it all back. He will not lose his job when he has only had it for just over a month. He needs to do right by coming back. As the bell above the door rings, he turns his back to prepare something called a Blue Hawaii. This job is probably going to be the death of him some day.

            "Mickey?"

            His hand freezes at the sound of the voice. He knows it all too well and he fucking knew that working here would bring this on sooner than he was ready for it. Quickly, he throws the drink together and passes it to Veronica to serve. He then turns around even though he would much rather not face this situation here and now in his work place. He would rather face Terry than face the boy who broke his heart at the border of Mexico when they already had an awful encounter in his apartment. Ian looks at him with shock and confusion. He recalls Mickey saying something about getting a job, but he had no idea it was the Alibi Room.

            "Hey, Gallagher," Mickey says robotically. Ever since his fit of rage that Mandy helped him through, he has been seeing things much clearly now. There's a balance within him that finally makes some relative sense.

            Ian is unsure of what to make of the figure standing on the other side of the counter. He didn't know that when he walked in the bar, he would be seeing a face he missed so much and tried to bury in the back of his mind. The words that he has been dying to say to him ever since he patched Mickey up springs back up into his mouth and he has to fight with himself to keep them hidden. He has no idea if Mickey actually wants to talk to him or not. "This is the job you got?" He asks.

            Mickey looks around anxiously. Gemma says he needs to go after Ian, but he’s still not sure if that’s the best course of action. "Yeah… I came in here after looking around town for a while. I told him that nobody is going to hire me with the record I got and he gave me the job. He saved my ass from Mandy’s bitching," he summarizes quickly.

            Ian takes a seat at the bar and Mickey really wishes he hadn’t. When he left Mickey and Mandy’s apartment, he was struggling to believe what happened there was real. At that point, he basically accepted that he would never see Mickey again and there he was. Now that he’s not in work mode, he’s starting to feel the things he should have the first time. The curiosity, the longing, and the need to hear about everything that happened when he was away. He needs to know everything. "How’s your arm doing? I really should have made you go to the hospital, but I knew you’d fight me on it.” 

            Mickey shakes his head as he desperately bites back the laugh that threatens to slip out. Ian knows him too goddamn well and with him being so innocent, it’s making it hard to come off as the emotionless asshole he needs to be. "I hate hospitals and I have zero fuckin’ insurance," Mickey dodges. He’s not about to confess how much it actually hurts to get shot. At least it wasn’t his ass this time.

            Ian gulps nervously and he examines the bruising on Mickey’s face. For working in the field, he did a pretty damn good job. “Yeah… I… I’m still on suspension. Usually Christie deals out these big punishments, but repeals them once she realizes she needs me. Not this time, though,” Ian explains as he tries to find something Mickey actually wants to talk about. He’s not sure why he’s being so closed off towards him. It’s almost as if he doesn’t want him around.

            “That’s kind of a bitch move,” Mickey states bluntly.

            “She’s kind of a bitch,” Ian adds on with a laugh.

            When things die down, Ian takes it upon himself to watch Mickey as he works. He thought he always had a pretty good idea on how much he missed Mickey, but now that he’s standing right in front of him… it’s so much worse than he thought. His body is screaming for him to leap over the counter to pull Mickey into a long overdue hug, but he keeps his place. Now is not the time for something like that even if he so desperately wants it to be. There are many things he wants to apologize for. They both have many words left unsaid between them and it’s weighing them down. Neither of them has been able to get each other out of their heads since that night. It’s like a permanent brand.

            “Why… Why didn’t you tell me you came back, Mickey?” Ian asks weakly and he’s no entirely sure if he wants to hear the answer. He sees how much much effort Mickey is trying to put into coming off as a dick. It reminds him of when they first met.

            Mickey passes another drink to another customer as his eyes find Ian’s. He hates that this is the second time that they’re seeing each other, technically the third time for Mickey, and it’s still under circumstances in which they cannot have the conversation they need to. “I was… Things have been crazy. It’s… you know,” he partially lies.

            Ian presses his lips together in a thin line as he pieces together what Mickey stopped himself from saying. "You were trying to avoid me," he finishes.

            Mickey is unsure of what he should say or do, so he busies himself with cleaning a spot on the counter that has already been cleaned three times since Ian has been here. Ian watches him fondly and the corners of his lips display the slightest hint of a smile. He missed Mickey more than he was willing to admit. "Why were you trying to avoid me, Mick? I’ve been wondering about you ever since I heard your case was dropped. Mandy wouldn’t tell me shit about it either.”

            Mickey sighs and looks down to the ground. This is not the kind of conversation he wants to have with everybody listening. "Do you really have to ask?"

            The hurt tone in Mickey's voice makes Ian's heart ache. Like Mickey, he was not expecting to see the man he once loved tonight. "Sorry, I just... I wish you told me."

            Mickey scoffs and lowers his eyes to the ground. Talking to him is harder than he thought it would be. There are too many conflicting thoughts in his head in order for him to think straight. "Yeah, well we don't always get what we fuckin' want in this town," he mutters coldly.

            Ian flinches and a wave of sadness washes over him. He knows what Mickey was trying to say beneath the vagueness of his words. “Do you… wanna talk? It’s been a while.”

            He barely knows what he’s doing at this point. As far as Mickey knows, Ian needs to get the hell away from him before it’s too late. “Not really. Why don’t you go bug someone else?”

            "Because you're the person I want to bug. C'mon, Mick."

            "I'm kinda fucking working, Ian. I don't have time for you."

            “Why are you acting like I don’t fucking matter to you?” Ian snaps angrily.

            Slamming a glass down, Mickey leans on the counter threateningly. “Because you don’t.”

            Ian shakes his head. He simply refuses that is where Mickey stands after all this time. He knows all too fucking well what they felt for each other, even if he was at a point in his life where he had no idea what he was feeling. “Oh, bull _fucking_ shit. That’s a fucking lie and you know it. You didn’t get that tattoo for nothing. I know you better than that.”

            “You wanna fucking talk? Then let’s fucking talk, Ian," Mickey snaps.

            Not waiting for a response, Mickey leaves his spot behind the counter to walk to the other side of the bar where the last available booth resides. The two boys slide into either side of the booth and Veronica comes by with drinks they did not order. She gathered by what she heard that the conversation they may or may not have might be a little tough on the boys. Mickey pushes one of the drinks to Ian and keeps one for himself. Ian frowns and awkwardly redirects the drink to the edge of the table. He's trying to watch how much alcohol he consumes while he's on his meds.

            “So what the fuck did you want to talk about?” Mickey starts with a tone in his voice that suggests he could care less about what Ian has to say, even though it’s a complete bullshit mask.

            Ian is not going to give him the reaction he is looking for. He knows what Mickey is doing. There was a familiar look in his eyes that screamed all of his true emotions when they first saw each other in the apartment. This is all just a façade. “You can drop the fucking act already. You’re trying to push me away and it’s not going to work,” Ian chastises.

            Mickey grasps his glass and he takes a pretty large drink to numb his emotions. He figured Ian would put it together eventually, he just hoped it wouldn’t happen within the first five minutes of his attempt. “I’m waiting.”

            Ian shifts around uncomfortably. This is probably his only shot at breaking through to Mickey and he cannot do it now, he’s not sure he ever will. "Look... I need to apologize for what happened at the border."

            "No offense, Ian, but I really don't want to fuckin' hear it," Mickey says firmly.

            "Why? You need to hear–"

            "–Do you ever fucking listen?"

            "Mickey, come on!" Ian demands. "I'm sorry, okay? I got your hopes up, I made you think I was coming... and then I backed out. I'm sorry. My life was crazy and I thought it was going to make everything better. I'm sorry I did that to you... I never should have given up on you like that. You know, if I just waited for you, then we wouldn't be here right now."

            Mickey leans back against his seat. Who the fuck is he kidding? Gemma was right. “We did a lot of stupid shit to each other…” He attempts slowly. He’s not sure what he’s going to do, but he knows not speaking freely is going to fucking kill him. He can still talk to Ian and keep him at a distance at the same time... This is the only way this relationship can work. Or, that’s what he thinks at least.

            Ian laughs quietly and for a brief second, their eyes meet. “But we had fun, didn't we? Sure, it was shit at the end, but it was... you know.”

            “You meant the fuckin’ world to me.”

            Grinning, Ian laughs once more. “So I do mean something to you after all.”

            Rolling his eyes, Mickey flips off Ian proudly. “I may have one fucking arm and a busted face, but I can still kick your white ass,” he threatens.

            “I don’t doubt it.”

            An uncomfortable silence swallows both of them whole as they struggle to decide on what to bring up next. Mickey still feels wrong for sitting here in front of Ian whereas Ian feels like he is living a surreal dream. How could Mickey be here after all they had been through in the past years? He can barely process it.

            "Are you seeing anyone?" Mickey blurts.

            Unsure of why those words just flew out of his mouth, Mickey flinches at himself and awkwardly shifts his gaze to Ian who seems just as surprised. He had no intention of saying anything at all because, although Gemma thinks differently, Mickey can’t help but feel like an invasion on Ian’s life.

            "Um... No. I've slept around here and there, but most of the guys I was with creeped me out and smelled weird. Lip thinks I'm just picky about scents or something," Ian articulates oddly as if his reply feels foreign on his tongue.

            Mickey nods and swallows back his jealously. He would do anything to be able to reach across the table to pull Ian into a crappy one armed hug… or a kiss. _Something_. "What about that Trevor guy? You seemed to kind of like him back when I saw you last." He wouldn't dare mention the boy he saw Ian with a few days ago. He already feels like a major stalker because of it.

            Ian laughs and finally relaxes against the booth. He’s surprised he even remembers Trevor’s name. He was afraid Mickey was going to sit there in silence for the entire night based on how distant he was acting only minutes ago, but he understands. He knows exactly what Mickey is thinking because he once thought about it too. "You mean before or after I slept with you and nearly ran off with you?" He asks jokingly. "No... We tried, but it was never going to work. We weren't good for each other. What about you?"

            Mickey nods and he would be lying if he said he wasn't a little bit relieved. Of course, he wants Ian to find happiness everywhere he goes in life, but he knew it was never going to work when Ian so willing came to the docks. "No... I kind of had to go back in the closest in Mexico," Mickey explains and while that may be true, he still told a partial lie. He had plenty of opportunities to sleep with other men and he sometimes did, but it never satisfied him. None of those guys were his type and more than half of him kept trying to sell him strange plants. 

            Ian frowns and he is slightly displeased to hear. "You shouldn't have had to do that.”

            Mickey nods stiffly and brings his glass to his lips again. His brain is bursting with questions. He wants to know everything that has happened in the four years he was away. He wants to hear about all of Ian’s adventures and he wants to hear about his troubles. “I did what I fuckin’ had to do…” 

            Once again, they fall into bitter silence and it makes Ian want to claw his eyes out. Talking about their history should not be this hard. He knows Mickey is still holding back how he feels and he wishes he could make it stop. He didn’t spend years suffocating himself in his brain just for Mickey to come back and have him try to keep himself away when that’s not what either of them truly wants.

            “Look… We don’t have to hash all of this shit out right now. I gotta get back to work and… I dunno,” Mickey says awkwardly.

            Ian heart sinks low. He’s trying so hard to go with what Mickey wants, but it’s getting abundantly clear that Mickey has no idea what he wants. “Mickey, I’m trying here. Why are you trying to push me away? Don’t you want to talk to me?”

            Mickey hates this. He looks over to the third eldest Gallagher kid with a clouded mind and sighs deeply. Just in this town alone, they have so many memories. They've been around each other ever since they were kids, way back to the little league, and they practically grew up together. Mickey was only seventeen when they had their first real encounter at the store Ian used to work at. He never thought that this is where they would end up especially given the time that has passed.

            "This isn’t easy, Ian. Like I said, you can't get everything you want in this town. Life fuckin’ sucks," he mutters bitterly.

            "I was worried about you, you know. Every day I wondered where you were and if you were doing okay. Do you know how fucking happy I am to see you here? To see that you’re alive and in one piece?” Ian questions with a hurt voice. His brain is struggling to understand what’s happening.

            Scoffing, Mickey runs a hand through his hair. “And I thought about you too. Every fuckin’ day. You were supposed to come with me.”

            “I know and I’m fucking sorry. Mickey, I just… I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since the border. I want you in my life,” Ian confesses.

            Mickey's brain suddenly freezes then. He always assumed that he would be okay with whatever Ian wanted, but he never really took the time to evaluate his own emotions. Can he be friends with the boy who broke his heart? Can they put their past behind them to work towards something new? Mickey has no idea. “So, what, then? You want to be best fuckin’ buddies and go to the park together on the weekend?” Mickey asks coldly. He has no idea where the hostility is coming from. It would be amazing if he could have Ian in his life right now and he never exactly planned to be this cold towards his ex-lover, but there’s something in the back of his mind that is nagging at him. Something that was supposed to fade out a long time ago and never did.

            “No, douchebag. I’m just sick of not having you there. I’m trying to be open with you. You know, this isn’t some fucking romance chick flick where we have to wait two fucking years or some shit to talk about our history and what we need to do. I want you in my life and if you want me gone, then fuck it. I’ll walk away. I’m not going to sit around and play games,” Ian seethes. "I'm not dependent on you anymore. So what do you want?"

            Mickey stares at Ian with wide eyes and when he fails to say anything, Ian starts moving to leave. Panicked, Mickey opens his mouth and only manages to force out one word. “Don’t…”

            Ian freezes. He knows the significance behind that word and he knows what the true intent of it is. Easing back down, he plops in his seat and he stares at Mickey expectedly.

            “I thought about you… every day… a-and I don’t know what I want, but I can’t let you go again. A lot has happened and… If you want to be friends, I’m… I’ll try,” Mickey attempts. He’s not used to talking like this. It was a lot easier to do it with Gemma because she hadn’t been a witness to all that has happened to him, but Ian has. Ian was there for it all. “We never really did the friends thing, Ian. We kind of skipped right over that…”

            Ian nods slowly and although he wishes Mickey would just be upfront with him, he can work with this. He understands that four years is a long time and he’s not going to get everything he wants. It’s a miracle alone that Mickey is even speaking to him. He would understand if Mickey chose to stay away from him, but he certainly hopes he will choose the latter. After spending so much time apart, Ian is not sure if he is willing to let Mickey go again. "Well, yeah. I mean, I showed up at your house with a tire iron expecting to fight you and we ended up... uh... having sex."

            Mickey awkwardly laughs at the memory, but he wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. It was the start of a life changing experience for him. "So how do we know if being friends is even an option for us?"

            "We won't know until we give it a shot, Mick. What you’re trying to do by pushing me away is not gonna fuckin’ work. You have to see that. At least give this a shot," Ian presses. 

            With a heavy sigh, Mickey relaxes against his seat as he reviews his options. He hates how this is where things are for them now. They were so in love, but one thing after another tore that apart for them and it left them with a bitter ending. "Yeah, whatever. Let's give it a fuckin’ shot. Just don't drink my beers and we'll be fine."

            Ian does not try to hide the grin that spreads on his face. He's glad they are going to try and do this. "So now I get to see what it looks like to be Mickey Milkovich's best friend. How exciting," he jokes lightly.

            Mickey scoffs at the joke. "Don't get your hopes up. I'm pretty fucking boring."

            "Ah, I have a few stories that would say differently," Ian barters wisely and Mickey knows he's well beyond right this time.

            "Shut your face. We haven't seen each other for four years. You don't know shit, Gallagher," Mickey snaps.

            "Just saying. Not many people willingly try to attack a raccoon with their bare hands, Mick," Ian points out with a grin.

            Mickey rolls his eyes and jabs a finger towards Ian. "That camping trip was not supposed to happen. You dick for brains brother should have been smarter about what he packed."

            "And you should have put more gas in the car!" Ian retorts blissfully.

            After flipping him off, Mickey falls silent again. He can tell that Ian has been through a lot in his absence. The dark bags under his eyes and the way he slouches are two dead giveaways. They may have spent four years apart, but Mickey can still read Ian like a book. That was always a talent of his.  "Look, I'm gonna go get back to work... I uh… yeah..." Mickey advises as he gets up from the booth.

            There is still so much more that they should have discussed and while Mickey knows it will bite him in the ass later, he decides it’s better to have that discussion when they’re comfortable with being around each other again. They’ve talked about enough for the night.

            Ian walks into the house with heaviness on his shoulders. Seeing Mickey was initially fantastic because Ian relentlessly dreamt of the situation several times in the past, but now that is has come and gone... He can't help but feel a wave of unexplained dread. He's more than glad that Mickey is back in town, but the unwanted feelings that come with unknown territory is bothering him. Does Ian want to handle it? No. Would he much rather skip over it and pretend it never happened? Probably. Will he do that? No. He would never. He missed Mickey too much for that.

            "Ian, there you are. Can we please talk?" Fiona calls from the living room.

            Ian stops on the stairs and he turns to face his sister. "Please tell me you were not fucking hanging around here all day just so you could try this shit again?" He asks coldly. Normally he would not speak so angrily to her, they got over that point of their argument weeks ago, but he has been through a lot lately and tonight has only been the tip of the ice burg.

            Fiona flinches at the tone of her brother's voice, but she swallows back her distain and tries again. "We can't keep doing this. I feel like I'm losing my brother, Ian. Why can't we fix this problem between us?"

            Although he tires, Ian still manages to lose his cap on his anger. He has heard enough of Fiona's attempts to fix what she broke. "I am done hearing this bullshit, Fiona. You should have thought of that before you tried to sabotage my job and my one shot to get the hell out of his town. You crossed the line and I have had enough. If you care so much about family, then you have a real shitty way of showing it."

            Not wanting to hear anything else, Ian storms up the stairs and goes in the general direction of his room. He absentmindedly stares at the suitcases beside his bed and he’s more than ready to pack it again. He's losing his damn mind in this house.

            "Rough day?" Lip asks from his bed.

            Ian looks up to the top bunk of the bed and shakes his head tiredly. “I just had a really long talk with Mickey, but he and I kind of glossed over the shit we should have talked about. I was at the Alibi... he's working as a bartender. I think we’re gonna try to be friends. It wasn’t exactly clear, I guess. He's trying to push me away."

            "That's news to me. I’ve been in and out of there for weeks to talk to Kev and never saw him. Does he seem okay? Is he missing any limbs or whatever? Mexico can get sketchy," Lip asks.

            "He looked fine. A little tan maybe, but fine. He’s still in that sling I stuck him in, though," Ian says with a sigh as he plops down on the edge of his bed.

            Lip scratches the back of his head and he examines the stress that is written all over his brother's face. "I am having a hard time reading you. Are you happy you guys talked? I know you loved the guy. You and Mickey were great together. You seemed a little petrified when you told me was back at the library."

            "I don't know, Lip. I just... I can't think clearly. This house is getting a little too chaotic again. I have Fiona breathing down my neck and Debbie is running around with a screaming small child... Then there's Carl and all of the strange girls he brings home," Ian vents.

            "So why don't you try and get the hell out of here again? As long as you’re sneaky about it, Fiona can’t try and stop you," Lip suggests.

            "I have been working on that for months, but things are getting a little complicated. Life keeps getting in the way and things keep popping up like… _Mickey_ ," Ian explains sheepishly.

            Lip squints his eyes as if he is sorting through a problem in his head. "I'd say fuckin' do it. Do whatever you have to do to get out of here. I don't blame you for wanting to get away from all this shit. I can handle Fiona until you guys are ready to stop fighting."

            Ian groans and flops back on his pillows. “I don't know, Lip. I think I'm just gonna buy an apartment somewhere close by so I can still see the kids. I’ll find some creepy roommate."

            "There's that apartment complex across the street from that mini mart a couple blocks down. You could check there," Lip suggests.

            Today has been entirely too much for his brain to physically handle in one sitting and instead of responding to his brother, Ian sighs. He should have stayed at the bar for a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, being friends is toooottaaalllly going to work out...... not..... Haha... hahaha.... I'm sorry for the things I am going to do. 
> 
> Oh yeah, there's some dialogue in here that foreshadows to something that will happen much later. Have fun trying to figure out what that is. 
> 
> The next chapter will be up soon! Now that the boys have spoke and are at least some what sorted, the actual bulk of the story is headed your way. Things are about to get really fucked up in the most Shameless way.


	11. What Remains in the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Thanksgiving and when Ian stumbles across the picture Mickey keeps hidden in his nightstand, he finds himself thinking about that memory more than he would like to admit.

He must be fucking hallucinating.

            Mickey stands in the kitchen with his favorite mug full of coffee as he stares at what is on his dining table. It stares back at him with its beady eyes and he flinches with its head snaps to the left. Without taking his eyes off of it, he skirts by the table and goes directly down the hallway to Mandy’s room where he pushes her door open with his foot and continues to hold eye contact with the _thing_ on the table. Maybe he gave himself a concussion when he hit his head on the counter at work last night. Maybe he really should have listened to Kev and got it checked out by someone who knows what the fuck they are talking about.

            “Mandy, what the fuck is on the table?”

            Mandy draws her eyebrows together as she touches up her makeup in the mirror that rests on her desk. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Mick,” she sighs with annoyance. She knows the two of them have their moments, but it’s really unnecessary to treat her like this. “I invited her here for dinner tonight. Unlike you, she’s going to help me cook.”

            Finally looking away, Mickey shifts his eyes to Mandy who has resumed applying eyeliner. That does not answer his question at all. “Who the hell are you talking about?”  
            Confused, Mandy turns around in her chair. “I’m talking about Emma. Who are _you_ talking about?”

            “I’m talking about the fucking duck on the table that keeps starring at me!” Mickey presses. “Normally, I don’t walk into the fucking kitchen and expect to have a starring content with a bird.”

            Laughing, Mandy turns back around. “Oh, that’s Albert. He’s Emma’s emotional support duck. I told her she could bring him over,” she explains as if there is nothing wrong with that sentence. “She doesn’t actually need one, but she didn’t want to get rid of him so…”

            Trying to piece the puzzle of the afternoon together in his head, Mickey looks back at the table to now see Emma is sitting there as she strokes Alfred’s feathers. He was unaware a duck could even be an emotion support animal. Shaking his head, he takes a large sip from his coffee to hopefully get his brain at out of the slow-paced funk it has been in all month. “Y’all are fuckin’ weird,” he mutters as he wonders back to his bedroom where he kicks the door shut an plops down on the edge of the bed.

            After resting his mug on the nightstand, he opens the door and takes a look at the image he carried with him in Mexico. He’s not sure why he has held onto it for so long when he really should have thrown it out by now. In the image, the two of them are at the local ice cream shop and they’re both laughing because Ian’s ice cream fell off the cone and landed in his lap after it left a nice, wet trail down the front of his shirt. He does not remember who took the picture exactly, but he definitely remembers how happy he was in that moment. He was so fucking happy. He feels stupid and pathetic for holding onto these feelings of longing for so long, but he can't help it. He was so sure that Ian was going to go with him to Mexico and when he thinks back on how things turned out, he feels like the world’s largest idiot. They were never going to have a happy ending. The universe has never been so kind.

            Putting the image back where it has lived for the past month, Mickey runs his only functioning hand through his hair and grabs his phone from his nightstand. The duck quaking is going to seriously make him lose his mind. Quietly, he lies down and fishes his earbuds from the depths of his bed where his blankets had claimed them victim late last night. Throwing on the first song in his playlist, he closes his eyes and relaxes against his pillows for an unknown amount of time. At least now, his thoughts have been put on mute. For once, he does not have to think about what could have been and could be.

            A loud knock on the front door, hours later, has Mandy rushing out of the kitchen to answer it. She skids to a stop and unlocks the deadbolt to reveal Ian standing in the hallway with a bottle of wine under his arm. He’s not entirely sure why she invited him here today, but he was not going to decline and offer to get out his house and miss a shot at seeing Mickey. Over the past couple of weeks, Mickey has continued to hold himself at a safe distance, but Ian feels that he is getting closer at breaking through that particularly stubborn barrier. He’s so close to getting Mickey back on his side where he truly, and has always, belongs.

            “Good. You didn’t get lost,” Mandy beams happily as she takes the wine he offers her.

            “Considering I’m here almost ever other day, I’d be impressed if I got lost,” he laughs.

            Upon entering the apartment, Ian quickly notices multiple out of the ordinary things. In the kitchen, there are several items of uncooked food scattered about on the counters, soft music is playing from the TV, and there’s a cheap ass table cloth on the dining table. He tries to figure out what the date is in his head, but he has come to the realization that he doesn’t even know what day it is. Between looking for apartments and dealing with his family that is rapidly falling apart and spiraling way out of control, he has had a very difficult time keeping track of basic things. Last he checked, it was still the begging of the month. Now, he has no fucking clue.

            “Uh… Am I missing something?” He asks cautiously, gesturing to the festivities.

            Mandy stops washing the dishes long enough to turn and address Ian. “It’s Thanksgiving, Ian. Where the hell has your head been at?”

            Ian is surprised. “Holy shit. I had no idea. Do you need any help in here?” He asks in shock. He almost feels bad for being so idiotically oblivious.

            “No, but I did want to ask you something,” Mandy alludes.

            “Shoot.”

            As she grabs for a kitchen towel to dry her hands off, Mandy looks directly at Ian with a soft smile. “I know your home life has been shit. Take it from someone who has lived in a shitty household before. You’re more than welcome to spend it here with us. It’s just going to me, Mickey, Emma, and her pet.”

            Ian looks over at the dining table to find Emma sitting on one of the chairs with a duck in her lap. The duck quacks happily at the sight of him and Ian flinches. He figured Mandy meant a dog or a cat, not a fucking duck. Then again, he kind of got the impression that Emma was no ordinary girl when they first met. She’s something else entirely. Swallowing thickly, Ian slowly nods. “Yeah, sure. I can hang with you guys tonight. It beats having an awkward dinner with Fiona,” he agrees.

            “Awesome. You can’t really help me in here, but you can do me a favor and get my piece of shit brother out of his room. He’s been hiding in there all day and I need him to go to the store. He’s also been stealing food from the kitchen, so getting him out of the house will give me time to cook without worrying about a missing cracker or bell pepper,” Mandy suggests.

            Ian nods and turns on his heel to go down the left hallway to Mickey’s room. The door is shut and there’s a sign hanging on the door knob that tells him Mickey does not want to be disturbed, but it’s nearly two in the afternoon and Mandy needs him. Respecting his privacy, Ian knocks first and gets no response. He tries again, knocking harder in case he was too soft last time. No response. Deciding to go for it, he cracks the door open and peers into the bedroom. Beside the closet, Ian finds a shirtless Mickey hoping around on one foot without his sling on as he tries to both get his pants on and not disturb his nearly healed arm. Ian clears his throat, only to notice that Mickey has earbuds in and cannot hear Ian’s attempts to get his attention. Sighing, he enters the room in full and waves his hand around over dramatically like a bird. Mickey looks up in shock and rips his earbuds out.

            “Whoa, Gallagher. Ever heard of knocking?” Mickey asks.

            “I did knock. Twice. Is this how you’ve been getting dressed?” Ian questions as he rushes over to Mickey and assists him with his belt without thinking about it. “You’re going to hurt yourself doing it this way.”

            Mickey gulps as his heart begins to pound. He’s not sure what a normal response should be when somebody, specifically his ex-boyfriend, fastens his belt for him. “I didn’t hear you. What the hell do you want?” He asks as he steps back to rest his phone on the dresser.

            Ian opens his mouth to speak, but his words stop short at the sight of Mickey’s chest tattoo. He has not directly seen it for quite some time and for some reason, seeing it now, is bringing on a powerful wave of emotions he had not been expecting to feel today. Mickey was in prison the first time he recalls seeing and he only saw it afterwards in locations such as the docks and the car on the way to Mexico, but he never paid much attention to it. He was always too consumed by Mickey’s presence and the fact he would eventually have to say goodbye to him. Looking at it now feels different. “Mandy needs us to go to the store to get some things she needs for dinner. And she’d appreciate it if you stopped stealing from the kitchen before she can cook the food,” he responds awkwardly.

            Seeing how flustered Ian has become, Mickey looks down at his tattoo. Suddenly getting the frantic urge to cover up, he reaches into his closet for a sweater and does his best to weasel into it with his busted arm. With a pink face, Ian grabs Mickey’s sling from his bed and helps him in it even though Mickey’s eyes scream with protest. It’s bad enough he feels awkward for displaying his tattoo knowing that anyone could come in his room at any given minute.

            Fumbling around, Mickey grabs his coat and slings it over his shoulders as he and Ian shuffle out of his room is uncomfortable silence. That moment could not have gone any worse. Bracing for the weather, they head out with Mandy’s shopping list safely stored in Ian’s back pocket. Halfway out of the shitty lobby, Mickey stops and groans. He forgot the one thing that will actually allow them to get to where they need to go.

            “I forgot the fucking keys," he grumbles.

            “I got it. Where did you leave them?” Ian asks eagerly.

            “On my nightstand.”

            Turning around on his heel, Ian dashes up the stairs and goes straight through the apartment door. Mandy looks at him weird as he runs down the left hallway to Mickey’s room, but he doesn’t care… he’s on a mission for car keys. Looking around carefully, Ian fails to see the keys on Mickey’s nightstand, so he yanks open the drawer and what he finds is not a set of keys, but an old picture from years ago. Ian’s heart pounds as he examines it and he finds himself questioning why it’s there. He half expected to find weed or a pack of condoms in the drawer… Not a picture from the night Ian first told Mickey he was in love with him.

            “Come on, Gallagher! We don’t have all fucking day,” Mickey impatiently calls from the hallway as he adjusts his sling.

            Just in time, Ian slams the drawer shut and spots the keys on the ground. He scoops them up and slides past Mickey who is about to yell at him some more to taking too long. In silence, the boys walk out to the car and with the intentions to drive, Mickey gestures for Ian to give him the keys that he holds in his tightly wound fist.

            “Um… You’re not driving, Mick,” Ian says flatly.

            “Why the fuck not? Give me the keys,” he snaps as he waves his hand for what he wants.

            Ian, smiling devilishly, lifts the keys way above his head where he knows they cannot be reached. "Because you have to be taller than five-foot-seven to drive," he jokes dangerously.

            Mickey glowers at Ian. He absolutely loathes short jokes. "You're a fucking prick."

            Ian laughs and shakes his head no. “You have one arm, Mick. You can drive next week after that sling is off and you get your strength back up,” he barters.

            Knowing that they will never get anywhere if they continue to argue in the rain, Mickey flips Ian off and walks around to the passenger side. While Ian drives, he finds his train of thought going back to the night that picture was taken. It was a special night and he’ll never forget it, even if he wanted to. He’s stuck with it forever.

_“You are going to make a huge fucking mess,” Mickey warns._

_Ian laughs and clutches onto his cone desperately as he continues to kick Mickey playfully from underneath the table. He already knows he’s going to lose this round of footsies, but he is way past the point of caring. He is way too caught up in the moment. “I like to live dangerously, Mick,” he replies with a goofy and proud smile._

_Mickey laughs and he eats the last of his cone while Ian’s continues to melt in his hand. Unable to stop his laughter, Mickey throws napkin after napkin at his boyfriend in hopes he will actually use them to clean himself up before it gets much worse. Nevertheless, Ian continues to let the ice cream drip down his arm. Mickey has never seen Ian so happy before and the sight alone made his heart swell with something he would describe as contentment when he secretly knows what he’s feeling is love. They had been through a lot recently and he is glad Ian suggested that they and Ian’s brothers go get ice cream tonight._

_“Alright fine. You fucking win again,” Ian says in defeat. Giving up on the game, Ian goes to start cleaning up his mess only for the scoop of ice cream to fall off the cone and slide down the front of his shirt. Ian gasps in surprise and Mickey buckles over the table in laughter, unable to keep himself contained, tears springing to his eyes. He knew that would happen one way or another._

_“I fucking told you!” He exclaims. “A huge mess!”_

_Ian laughs until tears well up into his eyes as he tries to scoop up the mess and put it back onto the cone that has grown soggy from his slow eating. All he’s doing is making it painfully worse. “Shut up and help me, bitch," he pleads with a grin on his face._

_“What the fuck do you want me to do? Lick it off of you?” Mickey asked sarcastically as he throws more napkins at his sticky boyfriend._

_“I mean… I wouldn’t stop you,” Ian jokes in a half serious tone in reference to the whipped cream incident they had in the kitchen a week ago._

_Mickey rolls his eyes and he quickly glances at Lip and Liam before getting up from his seat to help Ian. He carefully uses the napkins to wipe away as much of the mess as he can without getting any on himself. “You’re a complete mess,” Mickey mutters with a laugh._

_“Oh, shut up. You like it,” Ian defends as he playfully nudges Mickey’s arm._

_The cashier behind the counter shoots them a look of disgust, but Mickey simply ignores it and instead throws away the heaps of napkins they used. “You’re right. You look kind hot covered in ice cream with bits of napkin stuck to you. Reminds me of when you thought it would be a good fuckin’ idea to throw flour at me when I had the eggs.”_

_As their hands brush against each other, they exit the shop and make their way to an undecided location. Ian finds himself looking at Mickey and there is a powerful feeling in his chest that is weighing on him. Stopping all of a sudden, Ian swoops in to give Mickey a passionate kiss on the lips. He pushes his love up against a brick wall, just out of the spotlight of the street lamp. Mickey hums softly and he clutches onto Ian, no longer caring that he’s a sticky mess. He is willing to get a little sticky for Ian. It’s only a bonus that he tastes so fucking good._

_“I’m in love with you, Mickey,” Ian says seriously when they catch a break in their kiss._

_Mickey looks at Ian with wide eyes as he processes what he was told. Neither of them had confessed how they truly feel until now and Mickey is having a hard time believing that it is real. “Getting all sappy on me, Gallagher?” Mickey finally responds, unable to think of anything else in his petrified brain._

_“I mean it, Mickey. You’re a pain in the ass, but I love you,” Ian says again._

_Mickey laughs and grips Ian’s hands affectionately. “Why don’t you show me how much you love me, bitch? I’m getting all hard looking at you with that sexy ice cream face you got going on,” he offers suggestively with a wink that sends chills down his lover's spine._

_Ian laughs and throws an arm around Mickey’s shoulders to bring him closer. “I’m going to marry you one day, Milkovich.”_

_“Quit being gross and move your ass before I throw you over my shoulder and carry you,” Mickey laughs._

_“You’re just looking for an excuse to carry me.”_

_“Fuck off.”_

_Ian looks at Mickey as the two of them walk and playfully shove each other. This has been the most okay he has ever felt. When he is with Mickey, nothing bothers him. Not his condition, not the stress he often feels because of the life he lives in the South Side…. It’s like all of his troubles fade away and although he knows that it’s cliché, he’s glad he decided to go try and threaten Mickey that day. Who knows where he would have been without his black haired Milkovich by his side to boss him around and curse him out when he tries to be mushy?_

            Something hard hits Ian upside the head and he snaps out of his thoughts.

            “Did you hear a fucking word I said, Carrot Top?” Mickey asks irritably.

            Ian takes a hand off the steering wheel to rub the side of his head. In his lap rests the weapon Mickey used against him. A half empty water bottle. “No, I turned out of a second. Did you really have to throw that at me?” He complains as he pulls into the parking lot of the grocery store.

            “Probably not, but I got tired of trying to get your fucking attention. I said that we need to be careful about how much we spend. I hate blowing a bunch of money when Christmas is around the corner.”

            Ian’s face twists up with bewilderment. He had never heard such a thing come out of Mickey's mouth before. “Since when do you give a damn about Christmas? Or any holiday for that matter?”

            “I always give a damn about the holidays, dipshit. I’m not a fucking Grinch,” Mickey argues. “We just… We never spent any together so… I guess you never knew that," he finishes with bitterness wrapped in his voice.

            Ian frowns and moves the water bottle from his lap so he can get out of the car. He walks just ahead of Mickey, forgetting that he has always been a little faster. He’s trying to deny it to himself, but he’s still caught up in how he felt when he found the picture. Things made more sense back then and he was happier. He would kill to go back to that time period.

            “Hey, would you slow the fuck down? Not all of us have long ass legs like you do,” Mickey complains from a few feet behind.

            Ian looks back and slows his walk significantly for Mickey’s sake. “Sorry. It’s just cold outside," he supplies weakly.

            Mickey grabs a shopping cart and pushes it forward with his one available arm, shooting looks of concern towards Ian. He knows something is up. "Are you alright? You've been acting fucking weird ever since I asked you to get the keys."

            Ian shrugs and decides that it's best to lie right now. The last thing he wants to do is start some unnecessary fight when Mandy is trying so hard to throw a good thanksgiving dinner tonight. "I'm fine. Should we start with the eggs and then swing back around to get the other produce shit? Mandy has a lot of stuff on here. House stuff too."

            Mickey seems less than satisfied with Ian's answer because he can tell Ian is hiding something, but he too decides it's probably better to not start anything today. He wants to have a good Thanksgiving. He didn't have many, or any for that matter, in Mexico and all of the ones he had here primarily went to crap thanks to his poor excuse of a father. "Or, you could go get the eggs while I go get the bread and then we'll meet up in spices?"

            Ian agrees with the plan and veers off to the left to go get the eggs. Mickey, although he is still concerned about Ian, moves along to the bread aisle and immediately runs into a face he was hoping to avoid until the end of time. She seems just as surprised to see him as he is her, but that surprise quickly turns into some form of Russian anger that has no justification.

            "So the rumors are true. How long have you been in town, Mikhailo?" Svetlana questions blandly. Subconsciously, Mickey scans the area for a little blue eyed boy, but comes up empty.

            Mickey scoffs and pushes past the Russian women to get to the bread he came to the aisle for. "Wouldn't you fuckin' like to know? Don't you have something better to do? Like give some homeless twat a holiday special?"

            Svetlana glares at Mickey and attempts to get in his way, but she steps back when he shoots her a warning glance. "Your bitch of a sister stole my son's money," she spats.

            Mickey groans and briefly rests his head against the shelf of bread in reaction. He is tired of hearing about this money when he had nothing to do with it being taken in the first place. "According to Mandy, that fucking money was in the account for a few months and nobody took it. If you wanted it so badly, you should have fucking took it while you had the chance."

            Svetlana grimaces and grabs the bread out of Mickey's hand to add it to her own basket. "It was not yours to take. You should return it to your son."

            Mickey grabs the bread back from Svetlana's basket and throws it into the cart in a fit of anger. "Oh, so we're calling him my son again? Make up your fucking mind."

            Svetlana is about to say more when the appearance of Ian at the end of the aisle makes the topic veer slightly. "Oh, fantastic. You and Orange Boy. We will be seeing each other again when you are not accompanied by crazy pants."

            Mickey throws his hands up in the air as Svetlana walks away and he flips her off. "You make no fucking sense!" He calls after her.

            Ian looks between Svetlana and Mickey, trying to piece together what happened in his absence. Mickey, clearly not wanting to talk about it, walks away and he pushes the cart awkwardly to the next aisle. After that confrontation, Mickey can't wait for the night to be over. He has no idea what he wants to do about his son. All he knows is he wants nothing to do with his Russian mother who, currently, seems to have lost her mind over money that did not belong to her in the first place. 

            “Mickey, hang on. What was that about?” Ian asks curiously.

            Shaking his head, Mickey grabs the spices Mandy wants and throws them into the cart to join the bread. “She wants that money Mandy took.”

            Frowning, Ian reaches up to the top of the shelf to grab a couple boxes of pasta. “That again? Didn’t she marry some rich guy?”

            “I don’t know why she wants to the fucking money so bad. It’s not my problem. Can we just get our shit and go?” Mickey snaps.

            Nodding silently, Ian follows Mickey throughout the store and continues to wonder about the money. Why would Svetlana need it?

 

            “Mickey, can you pass the olive oil?”

            Not paying any attention to his sister, Mickey continues to stare at Alfred as he quacks and rubs himself on Ian’s leg. Never in a million years did Mickey expect to be jealous of a duck, but here he is. Emma, in Mickey’s place, steps up to give Mandy the olive oil and she thanks her for listening unlike her painfully distracted brother.

            “Okay, seriously. What the fuck is up with that duck and your leg?” Mickey finally asks.

            Ian looks down with light worry and tries to step away from Alfred, but he simply follows and softly quacks. "Mickey, help. I think it loves me."

            Emma laughs and bends down to pet Alfred. "He likes you, Ian. That's all. It's his job to find people who need the extra support," she explains.

            "But how the hell do you even train a duck to do that?" Mickey asks with genuine curiosity. "It's a fucking duck. They're mean and bite people." 

            Emma takes a seat at the table and she pulls Alfred onto her lap to stroke his feathers. "Ducks are smarter than you think. Alfred was meant for this job."

            A little disturbed, Mickey drops the topic and instead starts the task of moving the food to the table with Ian's help. “When am I allowed to take this sling off?” Mickey asks. 

            If Ian had not been coming the apartment almost every other day to hang out with him and Mandy to do whatever shit they could come up with, he probably would have taken the sling off a long time ago. In fact, he probably never would have worn it. He hates being restricted and it sucks when he really needs both arms and only has the one. The only silver lining is it was his left arm that was shot and not his dominant right arm.

            Ian glances over at Mickey as he sets a bowl full of mashed potatoes on the table. “I would say in about four days. You set yourself back a little bit by slipping on that ice on the way to the post office,” he says honestly

            Mickey mutters profanities under his breath in annoyance, which Emma laughs at. If she was not Mandy’s friend, he probably would have threatened her just then. The only reason why he has not thrown her out by now is because she's Mandy's friend and he would never do that to somebody who has taken care of his sister in his absence. 

            "Alright! Dinner is on. Everybody pick a spot and start eating," Mandy says as she brings the last dish to the table.

            Following her orders, everybody takes a seat at the table and because there are no spots left, Ian is forced to sit in between Mickey and Emma who still has Alfred in her lap. Alfred, seeing the opportunity, reaches out his neck to rest his head on Ian’s available lap. Mickey has a random compulsion to reach out and hold Ian's hand, but he fights it. He remembers back to when they were still together and he would often fantasize about spending the holidays with Ian. Those days are long in the past and while they are not together now, he's glad he can spend today with him anyways… even if his heart so desperately wants something more. 

            Setting his thoughts aside, Mickey reaches out and grabs his first serving of food and passes the dish along. They all eat in silence until Mandy starts talking about Lip and everything else that serves very little importance for a Thanksgiving dinner. Ian, in the meantime, slowly eases himself back into the holiday spirit and he glances at Mickey who was already staring at him. For what this is, they are glad today has gone as right as it can in the South Side of Chicago. They have a Turkey, they have plenty of food, and for the first time in their history… they’re sharing a normal holiday together. Though, both of them can’t help but feel like things are going a little too good and the thought that something terrible is coming their way haunts them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kind of an easy going chapter in terms of drama, but it's setting the stage for things to come! Svetlana will have a couple important appearances later on... Also, as a couple of my chapters have turned out to incredibly long, I have had to split them and will be adding more chapters to this story because of that. That means more content! Thank you so much to those who are reading.
> 
> By the way, writing the line "They were never going to have a happy ending. The universe has never been so kind."   
> WAS SO PAINFUL.
> 
> One last thing, if you want to feel a huge and possibly painful wave of Gallavich feels... Throw on "Hate Me" by Blue October. You'll thank me later and will probably want to cause me physical harm for suggesting such a painful song, but there you go. Gallavich. That song pretty much planted the idea in my head for this story. :)
> 
> I lied. ONE LAST THING. There's also some more foreshadowing in this chapter that hint at two future events.
> 
> Plot twist. I lied again. I have a huge Destiel fic in the works for those who are shippers of Destiel. I'm not sure when it will be out because I am trying to finish this one first (working on two projects at once usually leads to poorly written chapters because of how much I write), but keep a lookout for it. It will be an AU because, for some reason, I have a really hard time writing Destiel in the canon universe. I'm really excited about it because I'm getting to write in all of the characters that were killed off that I loved. Brace yourselves now because, as always, I cannot write a story without something tragic happening. (As you will learned a few times in THIS story)
> 
> Okay, bye for now. See you in a couple of days... assuming my evil college professor doesn't kill me first. If that should happen, I'll have my best friend continue the story for you all. As always, I apologize for typos. Being sleep deprived and constantly running on caffeine tends to make my dyslexia a little worse. :)


	12. Knight in Shining Armor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deciding that the time is right, Mandy strikes and offers for Ian to move in as he has pretty much been spending most of his time at the apartment anyways. However, not everyone was in included in on the conversation. 
> 
> WARNING: There is a brief mention of when Monica slit her wrists during Thanksgiving. The mention is quick and not detailed.

He jolts awake on the couch with the same pounding headache he had hoped would go away.

            Ian props himself up on his elbows and he quickly realizes that he is not in his house nor is he on his bed like he thought he was. Mandy is sitting on the armchair adjacent to the couch and she seems rather preoccupied with writing something down on a notepad that she copies from her phone. On his body, there is a thick blanket draped over him that he does not recall grabbing before crashing here. Hell, he has no memory of falling asleep in the first place. The last thing he remembers is coming here after work. Confused, Ian swings his legs onto the ground and he tiredly rubs his hands on his face in a weak attempt to wake himself up from his groggy haze. He slept deeply for the first time in forever and although he is glad he got the rest, he’s not entirely sure what time it is or, let alone, what day it is. He has been freakishly tired lately. If he's not working, he's dealing with his family and if by some miracle he's not dealing with them, then he is dealing with trying to find a way to get out of that house. 

             “It’s about time you woke up, sleepyhead,” Mandy comments with a smile. “You’ve been comatose for a while now.”

             Ian looks over at her anxiously. He has been spending a lot of time at their apartment and although he is grateful Mandy allows it and Mickey tolerates it, he can’t help but feel like he’s intruding. Half of the time they don’t even invite him over. He kind of just shows up and hopes they don’t tell him to go find somewhere else to hang out. thankfully, they're kind enough to let him in, but he still feels off about it.  “How long was I out?”

            “About six hours. Mickey found you when he came home from work and gave you a blanket cause it was kind of cold. The heater needs to be fixed again. He and I were actually making bets on how long you’d sleep,” Mandy informs with a cheeky smile. “At one point I started throwing popcorn on you, but he stopped me and said something about making you choke on it if I got it into your mouth.” She loves knowing that her brother is still hopelessly in love and simply refuses to admit it as he tries to push Ian away.

            “Oh shit, Mandy. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to keep crashing here like this. It’s just so quiet here,” Ian frantically apologizes. He’s almost embarrassed.

            Smiling, Mandy tosses her note pad and phone lightly onto the coffee table. “I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”

            A little anxious and fearful that he crossed the line, Ian nods. “Sure.” He has tried so hard to not overstay his welcome, but he knows he fucking has. He always seems to one way or another and he’s absolutely terrified Mandy is going to throw that in his face.

            “You’ve been spending a lot of time here and I know how shitty things are at home. Mickey and I do have an extra bedroom if you just want to move in.”

            Surprised, Ian raises his eyebrows. “What? How does Mickey feel about that?”

            Biting her bottom lip, Mandy shrugs her shoulders. Ever since she found out that this apartment has three bedrooms, this has always been her plan. First, she figured out that Ian was looking for a way to get out of his house and she learned that he has been painfully single ever since his break two years ago. Then, she started planting the seeds with Mickey that she would eventually get a roommate, only he wouldn’t like it. “He… doesn’t know. I’ll explain it to him later,” she says slowly.

            A little apprehensive, Ian rubs the back of his head. “You do realize he’s going to flip when you tell him though, right? He’s still trying to play that distance game with me.”

            “Which is exactly why I’m asking. We have an extra room and if we break up the rent between the three of us, it’ll be nothing. He has to see the benefits in that especially when a lot of his money is going towards utilities anyways. And, with you two living together, it might knock some sense into him,” Mandy presses. She knows she’s playing a tricky game, but she’s also trying to genuinely help Ian and his situation. He covered for her ass so many times back when they were kids. He even nearly got his ass beat by Terry and Mickey because of something that sprouted from her. This is the least she can do for him after all that he has done.

            Ian knows this could very well come back and bite him in the ass, but he’s out of time and options. If he stays living where he is for any longer, he will lose his mind. Not to mention, living on his own anywhere in South Side Chicago is basically a ticket for trouble whether he wants it or not. “Uh… Yeah. Okay. All of my shit has been packed for months now. All I gotta do is come by and pick it up. I’ll let Lip know.”

            Smiling, Mandy gets up from the arm chair. “Great. I’ll break the ice to Mickey when he gets home from wherever Mickey goes during the day,” she says happily.

            Getting up from the couch, Ian grabs his winter coat that he was using as a pillow and heads for the door. As he walks out he sends a message to his brother and braces himself for the cold chill that waits for him outside. He’s not entirely sure how this is going to blow over with the rest of his family, but he knows it’s not going to be pretty. It never is. Gallaghers can adapt to change pretty well, but it becomes a little more difficult when that change centers around one of the Gallaghers themselves. It can sometimes feel like walking on uneven ground.

            Sighing quietly, Ian takes the porch steps up to the Gallagher house one by one until his hand is on the doorknob and he’s opening the door slowly. From where he stands, he can already hear the yelling coming from the kitchen. With caution, he enters the home and silently walks towards the kitchen to eavesdrop on the argument taking place between his two eldest siblings. He knew Lip was going to tell Fiona right away because it’s important that she knows and he kind of figured it would go this way, but he’s way past the point of actually caring. It’s unhealthy for him to remain in this house and this is the best decision even though it’s going to be hard for his family to digest. If they can let Lip go, they can let him go. If Fiona expected all of her siblings to let her go when she wanted out, then she can do the same for him.

            “Did you seriously fucking encourage this? Do you not know how stupid this is? How could you do this?" Fiona yells at Lip.

            "Unlike you, I take the time to evaluate things before jumping the gun. This is good for Ian. Who fucking cares if Mickey is back in town or not?" Lip argues.

            "Oh, I don't know. Mickey only tried to haul Ian to Mexico! Does nobody remember the break Ian had a couple years ago? Do you not remember how close we were to losing him?" Fiona retaliates fiercely.

            Lip rolls his eyes and leans against the kitchen counter tiredly. "Of course I fucking do, Fiona. I was the one who saved him. He's fine and he's being more careful. He won't slip up like that again," Ian's older brother defends.

            Fiona wipes fresh tears from her face and she fiddles with the engagement ring on her finger anxiously. "It's almost like I'm the only one remembers. He's sick, Lip. He's sick like Monica. This isn't something that is going to go away. He needs to stay here with us so we can help him. We’re the only ones who can help him."

            "No, Fiona. He's not like Monica. Ian is not going to slit his wrists in the kitchen because he's a fucking whack job. He can get better at it and he is. Mandy already knows what to do and Mickey has dealt with it before. Mickey took care of him for months without an issue. They can take care of him and it's the best thing for him. You are pushing him to another break, Fiona. I can see if from a fucking mile away."

            "I am not the problem!" Fiona scoffs coldly.

            Ian listens for a little while longer before stepping out into view and clearing his throat to get their attention. Lip looks over his shoulder to see his younger brother and Ian notices how exhausted he looks. He wonders when Lip last got a solid night of rest. In between college and coming back to help with the kids, he must be walking on thin ice. “I’m just here to grab my bags. I’ll be back for the rest later when I’m more settled in the apartment,” Ian announces in a small voice.

            Fiona opens her mouth to say something, but Lip shoots a warning glance her way that manages to shut her up. She feels like she’s failing. Instead of waiting for more drama, Ian dashes up the stairs and bolts in the direction of his old bedroom. Carl is there doing whatever the hell Carl does these days and he only looks up long enough to wave to Ian. From under his bed, Ian grabs his suitcases before leaving the room and never looking back and he certainly doesn't stop when Frank asks him for money at the bathroom door. Passing right by Fiona, Ian is stopped by Lip who grabs his arm and forces Ian to stop in his tracks.

            “Hold on a minute there, Ian,” Lip urges. “I gotta ask for Fiona’s sake and mine. Do you have all your meds and shit?” He asks.

            Ian sighs and yanks his arm free of his older brother. “I can handle myself. I have everything I need, medications included. I’m perfectly fine,” he responds.

            Unwilling to stay and withstand more badgering, Ian flees the house and starts plowing through the rain with the Milkovich apartment as his destination. In the past years, Ian has grown to hate the South Side. Everything in it usually reminds him of painful memories, even in the times where he is lucky enough to recall something great, it is quickly ruined by something awful that makes him want to rip his heart out and feel nothing at all. It's hard to live his life here when everybody is expecting a psychotic break from him if he dares to forget to take his pills. He hates being the one everyone wants to control and look out for. All he wants is to live a normal, happy, life where he can be himself and free of the pointless judgement. And he knows that will never happen because he will always be sick, but he cannot help but hope.

            Ian pauses for a moment to reevaluate his current life situation. Fiona thinks he’s making a huge mistake, Mickey has not said more than a few works to him for a week and a half, and there’s a damn duck running around the apartment every now and then. All things considered, he’s living a pretty okay life right now. In all honestly, and he knows this, things could be much worse. Frank could be doing something to break the family down again or, for some unknown reason, the courts could reopen Mickey’s case and force him back into hiding because Sammi opened her fat mouth. He feels grateful that things are they way the are right now even though it’s not how he would like them to be. With time, he will get there. He has to believe that.

            Mickey walks through the front door with grocery bags in his hand and a bottle of requested wine under his arm. He spots Mandy at the kitchen counter preparing something for dinner, something that smells particularly good, and she has a twelve pack of his favorite beer on the counter. From where he stands, he can tell something is off about her and he’s not sure if he actually wants to know what that something is. Resting on the couch is Ian’s work coat, but there’s no Ian to be seen. Shrugging, Mickey walks into the kitchen and begins putting things away silently.

            “That crazy ass lady at the grocery store gave me shit again because she doesn’t like how I style my hair,” he says, hoping to break the uncomfortably silence. “Why gives a shit about what I do with _my_ hair? It’s my fuckin’ hair.”

            When Mandy doesn’t respond he turns to face her and the expression on her face is nothing short of uncertainty. "So... There's something I gotta mention to you,” Mandy begins hesitantly. She has been coming up with ways to break the ice all day and so far, she has found nothing suitable. However, Ian will be home any moment and she would prefer to do it before he shows up. It’s bad enough she’s kind of thrusting this upon him with virtually no warning.

            Mickey pauses and crosses his arms over his chest apprehensively. "Do I even want to know?" He asks.

            Laughing quietly, Mandy moves to lean up against the counter. "We have a new roommate. He'll be here in a few minutes," she begins cautiously.

            Confused, Mickey pulls a beer from the fridge and twists the bottle cap off. He can already tell he's going to need a drink or two for this considering she told him a while ago that he would not like the roommate she has had her eye on. "Great... who is it?"

            Shifting uncomfortably, Mandy begins to fidget with her fingers. "It's Ian," she admits.

            Choking, Mickey coughs into his beer and has to grab a paper towel to mop up the mess on his face. He’s too distracted to care about the mess on his shirt. "What? Mandy, _what the fuck?_ "

            "Look, there has been a lot of shit going on in his house and a lot of shit happened a while ago, I think, that you don't know about. It wasn't healthy for him to continue living there, Mick. He needed out," She explains desperately. “I just figured since we have the space…”

            Gathering his wits back, Mickey rests the beer on the counter and runs a hand down his face tiredly. This is not the news he was exacting to hear when he came home. This is not the news he _wanted_ to hear when he came home. "A little heads up would have been fuckin' appreciated,” he snaps. “What's going on at home?"

            Before Mandy can respond, Ian walks through the front door with two suitcases and a back pack full of his belongings. His eyes immediately latch onto Mickey's with alarm. He can tell by the look on his face that Mandy told him and even he has considered changing his mind about all this just in fear of how Mickey would react. Mickey, seeing this, sighs and walks over to take one of the suitcases from him and he is surprised by how heavy it is.

            "Welcome home, I guess,” he says with a flat voice. “The fuck did you pack in here? Rocks?"

            Ian grins, pleased to see that this did not go as bad he thought it was going to. However, he wouldn’t doubt for a minute that Mickey is not having a complete meltdown in his head. This place was supposed to be the one area where he could live his life without the constant presence of himself. Now, he’s moving in. He’s practically invading Mickey’s safe space. Coming over to hang out was fine, but now they’ll be dealing with each other twenty-four-seven. There’s no hiding from each other now.

            “No, I just have a lot of heavy shit,” he replies sarcastically.

            Mickey carries the backpack over his shoulder and walks down the hallway that takes him to where Ian's new room is next to the bathroom. He kicks open the door and flicks on the light to reveal a barren room that only has a floor lamp and a dusty arm chair in it. On the floor, there is also a seemingly new air mattress. He supposes Mandy bought that at some point knowing that somebody would fill this room eventually.

            "I guess I gotta look into getting a bed in here..." Ian muses out loud.

            Mickey looks back on him and nods slowly. "That'd be smart..." He's failing at the small talk and he fucking knows it. It would be a hell of a lot easier if his mind wasn't so goddamn clogged with pointless thoughts about how everything is going to change now.

            "I uh... I'm not sure if Mandy told you, but I'm gonna help out with the rent. I know that shit is tight between the two of you, so I wanna help," Ian informs in a desperate attempt to talk about something worthwhile, but it fails miserably.

            "That's great. That's good..." Mickey mutters as he flees the room in embarrassment. How he's going to fucking live like this is lost to him. He can barely handle having Ian in the apartment for a few hours to hang out let alone live here full time.

            Alone in his room, Ian runs a hand down his face and exhales in a low whistle. He supposes that could have been a lot worse. For the next half hour, he focuses on hanging up his clothes and situating his belongings the best he can without any kind of real furniture. He even inflates his air mattress without a pump, which proved to be incredibly difficult despite his incredible lung capacity. Mandy appears in the doorway after a while and she smiles softly.

            "Should I start preparing for Word War Mickey?" She asks innocently.

            Ian turns around and laughs lightly at the petty joke. "No, but maybe a meltdown or two. He seems to be managing fine, though."

            "Well, dinner is finished. Come out when you're ready," she says as she leaves.

            Ian nods to himself and looks around at his room. It's a little empty and will need some work, but he can make this room his own. He's not required to share it with anyone and he can proudly display all of his trinkets and pictures without worrying about any of it getting ruined. He's pretty fucking happy right now.

              Mickey stares at Ian from across the table. His head is exploding. Now that the fact Ian is moving in has sunk in, he cannot stop thinking about it. Ian will be around all the time now. There will be no way for him to hide from him anymore unless he lives the life of a pissed off hermit in his bedroom. This distance game he's trying to play is basically dead in the fucking ground. He will have to talk to Ian now, no matter how much his brain wishes he wouldn't have to because it hurts too fucking much. It's rocking his world. Any hook ups he brings home, he will be witness to. Any morning where Ian runs through the apartment in his boxers wet from the shower, he will have to view it and try not to get too excited over it.

            For the sake of Ian, he’s trying to remain calm. He’s not sure what has been going on at home, but he can tell it has been ugly and he’s not about to throw Ian out when he needs a home. He would never do that in a million years because even though they are stuck at an impasse, he wants Ian to know that he will always be safe with him no matter the circumstances. He's an adult, he can handle this. Of course, he knows this was his sister's evil fucking plan that she has been working since only god knows when. There's no way that she did this without knowing what it would do to the two of them. She had to have known that if they are living together, then everything he has done to put distance between them would suddenly become pointless. It's driving him fucking crazy.

            "You plan on blinking anytime soon?" Mandy suddenly asks.

            Mickey jolts from his thoughts and glares at her. "Nosy much?"

            "Oh, sorry. Excuse me for noticing that you haven't stopped glaring at Ian since we sat down to eat," she snaps. “Or were you trying to burn a hole in his forehead with your laser eyes?”

            Ian awkwardly pushes his broccoli around with his fork as he tries to think of something witty to say. "I didn't mind..."

            "Why? Because that's the longest he has looked at you without being a dick?" Mandy asks irritably.

            "Not exactly. More or less because I can guess what he's thinking about. He's mad at us. It's kind of obvious."

            Mickey, not wanting to discuss this, groans and rises from the table with his plate in hand. He finished eating a while ago, anyways. Muttering curses under his breath, he leaves his plate in the sink and turns to the fridge for a beer. He deserves a drink for keeping his cool. If he was still as hot headed as he used to be, he defiantly would have said something about this a long time ago. He may have even thrown a punch or two.

            "Does anyone want desert?" Mandy asks even though she can guess what answers she will be getting.

            "I'll pass..." Ian replies.

            "And I'm not fuckin’ hungry," Mickey sighs as he leaves the kitchen to go off to his room, which seems to be the only private place he has left in this town.

            Ian looks after him and frowns slightly, feeling bad for making such a huge change without talking to him first. He shouldn't have jumped the gun on this and he knows he messed up even if Mickey is trying to be civil about it. When he hears his bedroom door slam, he rises from his chair and runs a hand through his hair anxiously. He feels like an asshole for doing this to Mickey. There are a million and one different ways he and Mandy could have gone about this and they chose the worst one.

            "He just needs time to wrap his head around it," Mandy says quietly.

            "Time or not, it was kind of a dick move to do that to him. He's trying not to tear into us for doing it, I can tell,” he responds. “This is his home too and I kind of just interested myself without talking to him first."

            Mandy sighs and looks over towards where he brother was standing before he left. "He's just gonna have to suck it up. You needed this."

            "I get that, but... I could have waited," Ian defends.

            "Either fucking way, you would have ended up here. You do not make enough to live on your own and we had the room. Sure, we did it the fucked up way, but it was the way that made sense at the time. Just give him time to adjust to the idea of it."

            Unsure of what else to say on the topic, Ian drops his plate off into the sink and leaves for his room so he can finish unpacking what little belongings he has to his name. It's time to start another chapter of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was Mandy's plan all along. *Evil laughter*
> 
> Yeah, things are going to get interesting now.
> 
> This chapter did not turn out the way I had hoped it would, but I'm still positing it anyways because the next chapters are MUCH better.
> 
> Also, this has been flooding my Tumblr ask box lately and I guess it could be considered as a spoiler, but it IS tagged in my tags, so I'll let you decide. Some of you are worried that Gallavich will not survive this fic as the foreshadowing has been pretty heavily leading you to believe something will happen. While that may be true, I DO have this story tagged with "Eventual happy ending" which means that one way or another, things will end happily. Gallavich will survive this fic, I'm not a complete monster. I love the boys more than I love myself. There's just going to be a lot of drama until we get to the happy ending because, well, it's Shameless. Thank you to those who are reading and to those who are submitting questions. I'm always happy to answer, no matter the topic.  
> As always, I apologize for typos. :)


	13. Dirty, Dirty, Dirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unbeknownst to what awaits for him, Mickey shows up to work only to discover that the mystery event Kev is hosting tonight is actually an LGBTQ pride event. Not only does he have to be ridiculously nice to the customers, but the lack of clothes Ian is wearing and his impossibly annoying sister makes it a little hard to not become a homicidal rage monster.

**December**

Mickey stares up at his ceiling with a throbbing headache. 

            He's supposed to be at work in less than an hour and a half, but given how shitty he feels… he is not sure if he actually wants to go or not. Ian and him have been around each other a lot ever since Mandy offered for him to move in and he accepted. Mickey made it clear that it didn’t bother him, but it has been a tough adjustment. He’s not used to walking into the kitchen and seeing Ian in only his boxers. Hell, he’s not used to the concept of being friends with Ian as it is. They were lovers _and_ _then_ best friends. Not the other way around. This apartment was supposed to be his safe place from all things Gallagher and now there is a huge, red glaring, Gallagher invader. Mickey groans and he presses his face deeply into his pillow in hopes it will eat him alive. He should call in and say that he's puking buckets so he can stay home tonight, but he knows Mandy will freak the fuck out if there's a dent in his pay check because he played hooky on a Saturday night. Everybody knows that Saturday night is the best night to make tips.

> **To Ian:  
>  ** **I feel like shit**
> 
> **From Ian:  
>  ****You're not the only one. Mandy brought home some  
>  ****seriously fucked up pot brownies last night.**  

            Mickey scowls at the screen. He distinctively remembers reading something about weed and his medication. He may have been gone for several years, but he still recalls most of the information he forced himself to memorize for Ian’s benefit.

 

> **To Ian:**  
>  **Are you even supposed to be doing that shit  
>  ** **with your meds?**
> 
> **From Ian:  
>  ** **Probably not.**
> 
> **To Ian:  
>  ** **Dont make me put you on pot watch**
> 
> **From Ian:  
>  ** **What the fuck is pot watch?**

            He giggles helplessly. Honestly, he has no idea what pot watch would look like. He imagines it would be a lot like rehab and the thought only makes him laugh harder. It’s almost pathetic how easily he can find enjoyment in talking to Ian. It has always been that way. Ever since the beginning.

 

> **To Ian:  
>  ****You dont want to know**  
> 
> **From Ian:**  
>  **Right... I'll text you later. I have to get ready  
>  ** **for this thing Kev is having me help with.**
> 
> **To Ian:  
>  ** **Do you know what the event is?**
> 
> **From Ian:**  
>  **I'm under strict orders to not tell you because**  
>  **Kev is pretty sure youll call out sick if you know what  
>  ** **it is. All I can say is you will hate it. See you soon ;)**
> 
> **From Ian:  
>  ** **If it makes you feel better, Im not enjoying this  
>  ** **too much either.**

            Climbing out of his bed, Mickey leaves the room and walks around to the other side of the apartment to the bathroom. He kicks the door closed and strips down to his boxer briefs as he does. He's too tired to care about where the clothes land on the cold floor. He'll clean them up later whenever he decides to the laundry with the new appliances Mandy bought. With the intentions to start the water, Mickey opens the glass door and manages to make a rather startling discovery. Alfred looks up at him and quacks loudly at Mickey, who jumps back in surprise and nearly throws a hairbrush at the unsuspecting bird. In retrospect, he should have been able to see him, but he also wasn’t exactly paying attention nor looking for ducks in his fucking shower.

            "Mandy! Come get your fucking duck out of the goddamn shower before I throw it outside in the dumpster!" Mickey yells, even though he would never do such a thing to a helpless duck. Deep down, he has actually started to care quite a bit about Alfred.

            Mandy bursts into the bathroom not a minute later and she laughs at the sight of Alfred acting all innocent as he waddles around and quacks softly. "There he is. We've been looking for him."

            "Yeah, great. Get him the fuck out of here so I can shower in peace. I have to go to work soon," Mickey grumbles.

            With the duck now gone and the bathroom door shut, Mickey starts the water and returns to his peace while he still can. He kicks off his briefs and steps into the shower, finding the warm water to be extremely comforting given how cold his room gets regardless if the heater is on or not. He rolls his shoulders and does what he can to work out the knots. He has not been sleeping all that well and he would like to blame the stress that comes from his life for it, but knows it’s mostly stemming from Ian’s constant presence. Shaking his head, he massages his recently shot arm and moves it around a bit to loosen it up. He has been working really hard to strengthen the muscle and for refusing to go to the doctor thanks to his lack of health insurance, he’d say he’s doing a pretty damn good job.

            Grabbing the bottle of his shampoo, Mickey squirts the last of it onto his palm and opens the shower door to throw the empty bottle into the trash can beside the sink. He then thoroughly washes his hair and contemplates seriously for five minutes straight on how important it is that he gets out and goes to work. He decides to go with the latter because he would rather not have his sister come drag him out of the shower while he is ass naked and emotionally fucked up. And so, that's exactly what he does. After shutting off the water and opening the steam covered door, Mickey grabs a towel off the rack and dries off thoroughly. With the towel wrapped securely around his waist, he moves from the bathroom to his bedroom where he can drop the towel and get dressed for work. Kev said there was a ‘ _super special, first time ever_ ’ event going on and while Mickey has no idea what the hell is going on because nobody will fucking tell him, he still follows his orders and dresses nicely.

            On the way to work, he bundles himself in his favorite heavy winter coat and shoves his hands deeply in his pockets. He really should invest in some form of gloves, but he's too stretched thin with a major holiday just around the corner. It's bad enough he’s saving a chunk of money to get Mandy a real Christmas tree this year. He can survive a little while longer without gloves even if that means his skin go dry and cracked. He's used to doing things the hard way after growing up with Terry as a father. That man never spent money on normal things. He only blew it off on whores and drugs. Only on rare occasions did he actually buy something worthwhile, but more often than not it was meant for him and him only. Mickey can still remember getting his ass beat as a kid for sneaking one cookie out of Terry's stash. 

            Coming around the corner, Mickey is immediately welcomed into an atmosphere he was not prepared for. Not only is everything covered in LGBTQ pride posters and flags, but there are several canopies and vendors set up all up and down the street. Wondering if he somehow managed to fall into an alternate universe on his way to work, Mickey pursues the bar only to find that all tables have been moved out of the way and a makeshift stage has been put in their place across the top of the booths. Loud music blasts as male dancers perform on the stage wearing Christmas themed booty shorts and Santa hats. This must be a nightmare. Did he actually slip in the shower and hit his head hard enough to land himself in a coma? Is this his personal hell? 

            “Holy _fucking_ shit…” He curses. 

            As he looks around some more, he spots a fortune’s wroth of streamers hanging from the ceiling and if he didn't know any better, he would say the entire fucking town is here tonight. He was not prepared for this. He had no idea that when he showed up to work tonight, he would be confronted with the monstrosity that this event is. He could kill Kev in this very moment if he wanted to. A little warning would have been appreciated and he supposes that’s exactly why nobody told him. If he knew about this beforehand, he would have _for sure_ called in sick like he initially intended to do. Ian knew all along. Fuck, he probably knew when they were making breakfast this morning. How could he have been so oblivious? 

            "Mickey! Glad you made it. Here, put this on and get to work. We have a lot of people to serve," Vee advises as she passes by with his waist apron and a Santa hat.

            Because she has already disappeared into the crowd, Mickey is unable to yell at her for this and instead of putting on the hat, he throws it across the room and ties the apron on with more regret than he has ever felt in his life. He really wishes he stayed in bed tonight. Nothing could make this night worth it, not even a huge spike in tips. "I fucking hate my life," he mutters as he pushes through the door to get behind the counter.

            “You’re life isn’t so bad,” A familiar voice reminds him confidently.

            Mickey looks up from the counter to see a shirtless Ian standing in front of him with a pair of Christmas themed booty shorts that hug his ass perfectly. Mickey nearly chokes at the sight of him dressed like that. This is bringing him some seriously fucked up Déjà vu and although it’s weirding him out, he cannot get enough of the view. Ian has been working out and it’s showing. Mickey loves it.

            “You’re dancing tonight?” He asks. “I thought you stopped that shit?”

            “Not necessarily. I only dance when I _really_ need cash and I need it fast. It’s a bit humiliating, but I have the training so I figured I could use it to reel money in for gifts this year. Taking that two month suspension put a seriously huge dent in my income,” he explains as he pulls a Santa hat on his head and Mickey would not be surprised if he looked past the counter and saw snow boots on Ian’s feet. On top of it all, the way Ian’s red hair pokes out of the hat is doing some very dangerous things to Mickey’s mind. Why the fuck did Ian have to be born a red head? 

            “Right… Got any tips on deflecting assholes tonight? I might kill the first old guy that comes near me,” Mickey questions over the music.

            Ian looks between Mickey and the crowd for a second. He knows how Mickey feels about the idea of flirting with people, especially with those twice his age, but he also knows how Mickey feels about scoring money when he needs it. Most kids living in the South Side will do whatever they have to in order to get money in their pocket. “My advice is don’t. The more you let them flirt with you, the more tips you’ll get. That’s something I learned at the club. You just have to suck it up and play along with it even if it goes against who you are as a person. It sucks, but it’s worth it. I know you’re not into that shit, believe me, I know better than anyone, but it’ll help pay for Christmas,” he advises.

            Mickey gulps, but he nods and Ian walks away in those tight shorts that he secretly gets turned on by and he probably would if about a hundred people or so were not ogling Ian just as much as he is. Unfortunately, the stage is parallel with the counter and so, whether they like it or not, the boys will be facing each other all night. In an attempt to mend their broken relationship, Ian waves to Mickey, who only stares hungrily at Ian's mostly exposed and perfect body, playfully before he starts dancing. Mickey does, however, force himself to flip Ian off and to look away so he can get to work with the drinks people are requesting out of him. The last thing he needs is a boner because of his hot ex-boyfriend before his shift has truly begun.

            "Can I get a Sex on the Beach and an Old Fashioned for my friend here?" A man requests as he gestures to the girl beside him.

            Mickey has to hold back his eye roll because if there's one thing hates more than having people order drinks with ridiculous names… It’s making them. Trying to maintain the last shred of the dignity his has, he whips the drinks up quickly and passes them along. The man, surprisingly, slides him a twenty dollar bill as a tip with a phone number written on it. It is then that Mickey realizes how right Ian was. If he wants cash tonight, he’s going to have to be less of an asshole and more of the horny mid-twenties boy he’s expected to be. Growing desperate, Mickey drinks a couple shots of straight Vodka. Numb is better. If he’s numb, he doesn’t have room to feel humiliated or grossed out.

            From the stage, Ian watches Mikey with protective, but lustful eyes. It’s obvious that he thinks coming to work tonight was a mistake, but he’s glad he is here. At least Mickey’s presence gives him something to look at other than the drunken girls in the corner and the old men who try to grab at his legs. Unfortunately, as he had been completely consumed by watching the blue-eyed boy, Ian failed to notice that his dancing was beginning to falter. Kev walks up to the stage with his hands raised in the air and a disgruntled expression on his face, trying to figure out what exactly Ian is doing up there.

            "Gallagher! I'm not paying you to flop around up there like a dying fish. You’re my main source of entertainment, man," Kev reminds him.

            "You're not paying me at all!" Ian yells over the music. “I’m only here because you were short a dancer and you needed to make sure Mickey would stay!”

            "Yeah, well... Whatever! Just, try a little harder. Or else I'm going to have to get up there in your place and Vee might actually kill me if I did that kind of shit again," Kev advises.

            Laughing, Ian kicks it up a couple notches and starts pulling out moves that he learned back at the club he worked at while he was under the name Curtis. The boys that are watching from the ground wolf whistle and wave their cash at him, but one boy in particular seems perfectly entranced. Ian offers his hand to him and pulls him up on stage to deliver a personalized dance.

            "What's your name?" He asks with an alluring smile.

            "Tyler. I like your style. What's your name, sugar?" He replies.

            Ian smiles and starts dancing away. "I'm Jeremy."

            He hopes he can score on this guy. Usually the people who are totally suckered in completely forget about the spending limits they put in place before walking into places like this and it's easy to weasel their money out of them.

            "Tell me, Tyler, what brings you here tonight?" Ian asks as he grinds his hips against the stranger smoothly.

            "I'm looking to get my mind off a couple things. You're doing fantastic."

            At the bar, Mickey watches with disgust. If someone asked him about the look that has been subconsciously plastered on his face, he would say he wasn’t jealous. However, he knows, in the back of his mind, that’s exactly what he is. Jealous. How could he not be? He has all of these stupid emotions bouncing around in his head and he has nowhere to put them, so they manifest into jealously. Grumbling curse words under his breath, Mickey runs a hand through his still damp hair and snaps back into his fake ass façade to tend to customers. If he can ‘woo’ enough people, he will have enough money to buy suitable Christmas gifts this year and that is something he has not been able to do for his entire life. Looking up, Mickey spots a man walking his way with a bright red scarf and he’s not entirely sure why, but he instantly feels hostile towards this guy. Borderline homicidal.

            “What can I get you?” He asks with a clenched jaw. He has to actually bite his tongue to prevent the words he really wants to say from flying out his mouth.

            The older man smiles and leans forward on the counter suggestively. “I don’t know. Depends on if you’re free tonight or not, baby,” he flirts.

            Mickey scoffs, suddenly dropping his act. “Fuck off. You gonna order or not?” He asks the man. This is guy is probably three times his age and he smells really weird. Like wet dog. Mickey fucking hates this. He’s going to take a four-hour long shower when he gets home. Realistically, he has more of an urge to punch the guy across the face than flirt with him. It’s riling him up and _not_ in the good way.

            Surprised by the attitude, the man smiles and licks his bottom lip. He loves attitudes and bad boys. It seems he found the perfect combination. “Serve me your best Cosmopolitan, honey. I wanna _taste_ your skills. Show me what you can do.”

            Getting to work, Mickey whips up the selected drink and passes it to the man who was shamelessly starring at Mickey's ass as he works. He feels insanely uncomfortable. He’s not sure how Ian could do this without showing his disgust. It made a hell of a lot more sense for Ian to do this while he had no meds, but now it’s a mystery. "Here you go. One fucking Cosmopolitan."

            "Fantastic. If you want to take me up on my offer, you can find me by the stage. I'll be waiting for you, daddy boy," the man says as he passes a hundred-dollar bill.

            Mickey holds back everything he wants to say and safely tucks the money into his back pocket. As soon as the man walks away, a life-threatening scowl forms on Mickey’s face and to his left, he can hear Kev laughing his ass off. If he was not his boss, he would probably throw a punch at Kev. He hates that someone saw him go through all of that. He hates that he’s even having to do it at all. It’s disgusting.

            "Got something to fucking say?" Mickey barks irritably.

            Kev puts an apron on and lightly ruffles Mickey's hair only to have his hand swatted away as he passes by. "Who knew you could charm em, eh?  Leading on to get a little pocket cash… I like your thinking. Very South Side of you. You can get some nice tips that way.”

            “It was Ian’s idea. I need the cash for Christmas this year. I want to rip their throats out, but… No throats means no fucking tips and I’m pretty sure you’d fire me for harming your customers," Mickey fusses scathingly. Honest to god, he’d rather be doing literally anything else than this. As of right now, he has mad props for anyone who does this for a living. He can barely imagine doing it for a few hours, let alone as a profession.

            Kev wiggles his hips a little bit and it dawns on Mickey that Kev squeezed himself into a pair of the metallic Christmas booty shorts. “I think I’ll give it a try.”

            Mickey snorts and drinks a quick shot of whiskey to keep himself going tonight. Though, he’s going to wind up drunk if he keeps drinking like this. He really should run home while he has the chance. "Everyone here knows you're married, asshat. Not to mention, you're straight as a fucking ruler."

            "Hey, adultery has a certain appeal to the creepy people," Kev points out with no indication that he's joking. In fact, he seemed rather serious.

            Mickey laughs and he passes Kev a shot for good luck. "Have fun with that. Let me know how it goes, will you? I’m curious to know how many times you get your ass rejected."

            Kev wags his eyebrows before diving right into the game Mickey has been playing. Mickey watches as customers come and go, some of which driven away by Kev’s failed attempt at flirting. It's not long before Mickey's eyes find Ian again. There is a new guy up there with him this time and Ian is going in on him hard. In any other circumstance, Mickey would be proud with how hard he is working to score cash, but his jealously overrides almost any other rational feeling that he has. He wants to rip that guy down from the stage and he would if he had a legitimate reason to do so. In his private thoughts, he has always wondered what it would be like if Ian were to dance on him like that. Sure, he got the lap dance at the club years ago, but he was more focused on Ian’s mental health than enjoying it. He would kill to experience it again.

            "What's a man gotta do around here to get a good drink?" Frank asks, clearly already drunk or possibly high off his ass.

            Mickey scoffs and the sight of the man. He’s not surprised to see that he crawled his way over here. Where there’s an open party, there’s Frank Gallagher. "You do realize this is a LGBTQ pride event, right?" Mickey questions.

            Frank burps and lazily nods his head. "Of course! I'm here to support my fellow queers and boy fucking friends. We're all human at the end of the day. I love them all. My son makes a fabulous gay man, Mick. Though, we all know you know that already. As I do recall, you seemed to enjoy my son’s dick quite a lot back in the day…”

            "I'm going to ignore everything you just fucking said before I break your fucking nose," Mickey says as he slides Frank a beer. He's not even going to try and get any tips out of Frank. He knows all too well that Frank won't even pay for what he was given just now.

            "Thank you, Mikhailo, for this lovely drink. God Bless you and your gay penis. I hope it makes my son happy." Frank mumbles as he stumbles away.

            Mickey grimaces at the sound of his real first name. "Why the _fuck_ does everybody keep calling me that?" He asks himself.

            Kev swings back around and waves eighty bucks in Mickey’s face. “And you said it wouldn’t work. If I may suggest, you might want to pick up the pace before I leave you in the dust, Milkovich.”

            “When did this become a fucking competition?” Mickey asks irritably.

            “Just now. Good luck!”

            Groaning, Mickey covers his face with his hands for a solid thirty seconds before dropping them to his side. “Somebody please fucking shoot me,” he begs openly.

            With Kev gone, he is able to get back to work even though he has multiple compulsions to run home and never come back here until he knows this event no longer exists. Mickey has accepted his sexuality and has moved on from hating it, but he absolutely hates putting on a false face to get what he needs. He’ll have to ask Ian how he does it in case he ever has to do this shit again and he certainly hopes he never does.

            “Well look at you,” Mandy says with a large grin as she emerges from the depths of the crowds wearing a skin-tight red dress that matches the white dress Emma is wearing who trails closely behind.

            Mickey looks up from the counter and scowls at his little sister. “You can fuck _right_ off.”

            “Ouch, Mickey. At least give us a drink first,” Emma teases.

            Rolling his eyes, Mickey whips up two of his sister’s favorite drinks and he slides them to the girls. “There you go,” he says with false enthusiasm.

            Mandy eyes her brother suspiciously as she can see he is bothered by much more than the event and the men that insist on starring at him in ways he would rather they not. She has been carefully watching Ian and Mickey ever since Ian moved in. There have been a lot of moments where the two of them seem perfectly in sync with each other. Just this morning, she walked into the kitchen to find them making breakfast together in nothing but their boxers. They were laughing and smiling and unashamed of their happiness. It’s how they’re supposed to be and everyone around them knows it.

            “Okay, big brother. Your heart eyes are going to bulge out of your head,” Mandy comments as she gestures to the way Mickey is staring at the stage.

            “I don’t have fucking heart eyes. Don’t you have some guy to go bother?” He snaps.

            Shaking her head, Mandy takes a seat at the bar even though she can tell her presence is not wanted. “I came with Emma. Pride event, remember?” She corrects blandly.

            Confused, Mickey draws his eyebrows together. “Since when are you gay?”

            Giving her brother an annoyed look, Mandy presses her lips together. “I didn’t come over here to discuss whether or not I’m fucking gay, Mick. Why are you trying so hard to push him away? Are you afraid you’re gonna fall in love again? Because I have some bad news for you…”

            Mandy has always been good at seeing the truth in situations and Mickey hates that about her. It makes masking his feelings hard even though he did a pretty damn good job of hiding his sexuality for as long as he can remember. “Can we not have this conversation here? Or ever?”

            “No, we’re having it now because you’ll keep dancing around it until it’s too late and Ian brings home another boy to fill the hole in his heart,” she argues.

            Scoffing, Mickey starts wiping up a spilled drink to keep his hands occupied before he _actually_ tries to strangle himself with them. “When the fuck did you get so mushy?”

            Emma watches the conversation carefully. For years she has been by Mandy’s side to keep her afloat and it’s not surprising at all to see her taking action. Mandy, on the other hand, takes a quick sip from her drink before diving right back in. She's going to press on this hard. “I changed a lot since you have been gone. Now, what are you going to do about Ian?”

            “Mandy… fuck. What do you want me to fucking do? Wear my heart on my fucking sleeve and hope it gets me somewhere?” Mickey asks through a clenched jaw. He hates how she keeps expecting so much out of him when it comes to Ian. It's like nobody cares about how he _actually_ feels and what he _actually_ fears. 

            “Preferably, yes. At least that way Ian will know you care about him and you’re not just tolerating him. He’s trying really hard to be better than he was and he wants you to see that. What exactly is your goal here?” Mandy continues, digging for the answers that have been eating away at both her and Ian. She knows there’s a fucked up agenda to all of this.

            His urge to go home has never been stronger. He should have known that Mandy would confront him sooner or later. “I’m not gonna fucking talk about this. I have work to do.”

            Scoffing, his younger sister gets up from her bar stool and walks around to the back of the counter. Having nothing to be afraid of, she crowds into Mickey’s personal space. He won’t do shit to her. He never has and he never will. “You want him to move on, don’t you? That’s the whole fucking point. You want him to fall in love with somebody else because you are so convinced that you’re bad for him. What the fuck, Mickey? Did you ever stop to consider that he doesn’t want anyone else?”

            “You don’t fucking know that,” Mickey growls darkly. “You don’t know _anything_ about this shit so quit fucking acting like you do.”

            Jabbing her finger against his chest, Mandy steps ever closer. “I do fucking know that! You have no idea how much he talked about you when I came back into town. I know how much he cares about you and just because you don’t fucking see yourself as ‘worthy’ enough doesn’t give you the fucking right to push him away, Mickey,” she seethes. “I don’t have to know all of the history between you two to know that you fucking love each other.”

            Because he has a lack of words to say, Mickey remains silent. He had no idea it was as bad as it is. Although Ian admitted that he thought about him a lot while he was away, he figured he was just saying that to be nice. How could he be worth thinking about? It’s not a thought he wants to spend a lot of time on. Getting the sense that Mickey got the point, Mandy storms off with her drink. Little did he know, Ian was watching the entire thing from the stage.

            He's not sure what they were arguing about, but he knows it was nothing flattering judging by look etched on Mickey's face and the way Mandy stormed away. Suddenly, Emma is in front of the stage and she clearly needs to talk to him. Bending down, he hoists Emma up and she smiles awkwardly.

            "Sorry, I know you typically don't dance with the girls. Can I talk to you for a second?" She asks innocently as Ian keeps up with the beat.

            "Yeah, sure. What's going on?"

            Emma makes a face that is hard to describe. It's almost as if she is struggling with finding the right words to say. "I'm only telling you this because I know nobody else will and you need to know. I'm sure you're aware that Mickey is trying to push you away, right?"

            "Yeah. He's been trying for weeks. It's pointless."

            "Well… you might want to tell him that. Mandy figured out why he's being so stubborn,” she says slowly. “He's waiting for you to move on, Ian."

            "What the fuck?" Ian blurts.

            "Look, don't get on his case about it. I don't know how you feel about him, but there's something between you two," she observes. "If you want him to stop, you gotta show him that you're not going anywhere. That means you gotta do whatever necessary to convince the poor boy. I have never seen somebody so in painfully in love before. It’s both romantic and pretty sad. If you guys keep going in the direction you are, somebody is going to wind up broken and the other is going to wind up a train wreck."

            Ian sighs and grabs Emma’s waist to make it look like they’re doing what they’re supposed to be instead of having a serious conversation. Turning her around so her back is against his chest, he sways her hips and lowers his mouth to her ear. “What do you suggest I do?” He asks innocently. He needs all the advice he can get.

            “You know Mickey better than anyone,” she says as she spins back around to throw her arms around his neck. “Throw his own game back at him. Play it harder. Turn it inside out. Change the rules. I know you know what to do. Just go for it. He’ll crack eventually.”

            Laughing, Ian glances briefly towards the bar. “You don’t know Mickey… we could be going at this for months,” he sighs. And he wishes he knew then just how right he truly was.

            With one last look, Emma hops down and returns to Mandy who was waiting on the sidelines. Ian's eyes snap over to Mickey who is busy hating his job and serving customers. If that's the game he's going to play, then Ian is going to play it three times harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so happy with this chapter. I have been working on this story since early June and this is one the chapters I put a ton of work into.
> 
> NOTE: The next chapter will essentially be a part two. There will be no time jump between the two chapters. This will happen every now and then. Especially later... because there are some chapters I had to break up and I can promise you, even though you'll have to wait, it'll be worth it because I have some SPECIAL things planned ;)
> 
> FUN FACT: Alfred the duck was actually Alfred the goose in the original draft of this fic
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is reading and supporting this story. The readers are what give us, the writers, the motivation to keep going. I appreciate it so much! 
> 
> As always, I apologize for typos. 
> 
> If you celebrate, HAPPY EARLY HALLOWEEN! Or, HAPPY HALLOWEEN if you live in a different time zone.  
> If you do not celebrate, I hope your Tuesday/Wednesday is wonderful :)


	14. There's no Right or Wrong Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing on from where the last chapter left off, Ian starts planting seeds into Mickey's mind that he has no interest in anybody else. In the meantime, Mickey struggles with his own emotions and with the concept of speaking freely with Ian once again. It's time for them to have the talk they should have had a long time ago.

Ian hops down from the stage for his scheduled break, breathing heavily.

            He weaves through the gathered crows to make his way to the bar where he nearly pushes someone from their seat so he can sit for a few short minutes. His legs feel like jelly and he is well past the point of being tired. He is, for sure, exhausted. Plopping down, he wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and he quickly smells his armpits to make sure he has not started to stink up the place in between all of his dancing and the amount of people that rubbed themselves onto his body tonight. He still, unfortunately, has another couple of hours to go before this event wraps up and he needs to make sure he stays on top of things if he is going to get the money he absolutely needs. He thought of a very special Christmas gift Mickey this year and he needs all the money he can get his hands on if he’s going to purchase it in time.

            “Mickey, give me a shot of something strong,” Ian begs as Mickey walks by with a scowl on his face. “I think I may actually be dying.”

            Pausing because he honestly hadn’t noticed Ian, Mickey looks back and scoffs. Ian _wishes_ he was fucking stupid enough to actually listen to him. “Yeah, no,” he denies. “How about a glass of water and a towel to mop up all of that sweat and glitter?”

            Sliding the glass across the counter followed by a dry towel, Mickey provides Ian with what he actually needs. Ian takes both items gratefully and tips the glass to Mickey appreciatively. He will never be able to express just how fortunate he feels to have Mickey still take care of him after all the time they had apart. “You’re the man, Mick.”

            “More like I’m looking out for your ass, but whatever,” Mickey replies with an eye roll.

            Laughing, Ian takes a big drink and sighs with relief. “Huh… And here I thought you were looking _at_ my ass. I must be seeing things.”

            Ian knows he’s right about Mickey staring. The poor boy has been like a deer caught in the headlights all night and it’s exactly what Ian wants. If Mickey is staring, then he at least knows what kind of thoughts are going through his head. He knows Mickey is thinking about all of the filthy things he would love to do to him, right down to yanking him down from that stage to rip those shorts off and give him the blow job of a lifetime. In the back of his mind, he too has been having those thoughts because how could he not when he is purposefully dancing proactively to keep Mickey entranced? He would love nothing more than to throw Mickey up against the wall, kiss him until his lips are swollen… and rip all of his clothes off so he can fuck that wonderful ass that he has. It’s ridiculously easy to get into that kind of mind set in a place like this. In a place in which nothing but lust is flying around. It’s essentially a breeding ground for dirty thoughts.

            For the past couple hours, he has been thinking about what Emma told him. Naturally, he knows he in it for the long run. Mickey is not going to bend so easily, he usually never does. And so, he has already started doing what Emma suggested. Playing the game, only he’s playing it much harder and definitely smarter. He finds it absolutely ridiculous that Mickey wants him to move on. Why would he do that when the love of his life has come to him? Ian has no fucking clue. He’s going to win, he knows that much for sure. The process has to start somewhere. They’re on the road to recovery and absolutely nothing can get done if Mickey is waiting around for him to bring home someone else. The blue-eyed boy should have known better. The Gallaghers are, to put it simply, extremely competitive and will usually stop at nothing until they come out on top.

            Blushing with embarrassment, Mickey leans up against the counter and absentmindedly begins to twirl his beer around between his fingers on the slick counter top. “You don’t know shit, Gallagher,” he taunts confidently.

            Grinning, Ian leans forward on the counter and eyes Mickey up and down suggestively with his bottom lip held between his teeth. They are not far apart now, only inches from bringing their lips together and he plans on using that to what little advantage he has. “I do know, though. As I recall, you could never keep your hands off of my body. I remember, Mick. You _loved_ touching me.”

            Mickey has a hard time swallowing his drink as all of those dirty memories come creeping back into his mind after having not been there for only god knows how long. He knows what Ian said is completely true and he supposes that was the point. He would always try to touch him in every way possible… it became a habit. He would slide his hand down the side of his back and rest it at the curve of his perfect ass. He would run his hands all over Ian’s stomach to feel the muscles he always worked so hard to maintain. When they were going at it hard, when they would make each other a moaning mess, Mickey would clutch onto Ian and leave kisses anywhere he could reach. Sometimes teeth would get involved. He loved feeling Ian’s skin against his own and he loved knowing that it was all his. It’s hard for him to think that there was once a time where he held all of that back because he was trying _so_ hard not to fall for the red head. He had no idea how much he was missing and he had no idea how much he would come to like it.

             “Alright, so you’ve been sneaking alcohol back there haven’t you?” Mickey deflects.

            The grin does not fade from Ian’s lips. He knows what he said sparked old memories for Mickey. He basically spoke the verbal key to that particular Pandora’s Box. “Maybe, but you don’t need to know. I gotta go tend to more horny customers.”

            “Hang on a second there, glitter bug," Mickey calls after him.

            Ian swivels back around and he flinches when Mickey comes at him with a wet paper towel. Carefully, he scrubs away at the lip stick stains all over Ian’s neck and the ones that linger on the corner of his mouth. He’s not entirely too happy to see these marks, but he’ll gladly wash them off without a second thought.

            “You looked like you got mouth fucked by a horny Pennywise,” Mickey explains as he holds up the now red and pick paper towel.

            Laughing at the morbid comment, Ian runs a hand over his freshly cleaned face. “You could have said something earlier,” he points out.

            Shrugging, Mickey tosses the paper towel into the trash bin. “Yeah, but then I wouldn’t of had an excuse to touch you,” he says sarcastically although it was true.

                        Winking, Ian walks off and leaves Mickey in the cloud of lust and old memories he sparked deeply within him. Shaking his head, he runs a hand down his face and he, of course, notices Mandy making her way back over to the bar for the fourth time tonight. Given everything that she has thrown in his face in the past few hours, he cannot say he’s excited about this.

            “See what I mean?” He’s so in love with you,” she says confidently.

            Really not wanting to get into it again when he’s currently trying not to think about how much he would to drag Ian into the bathroom and throw him up against the wall, Mickey prepares another drink for his sister. “Doesn’t fucking matter. I’m not chasing after it,” he snaps coldly. “Can you just fucking drop it? This is getting old.”

            Laughing as if he told a funny joke, Mandy takes her drink and raises an eyebrow. “Sure, Mickey. Just keep telling yourself that. Before you know it, you’re going to be running back to him like nothing ever happened,” she points out smartly as she walks off.

            Now that he is alone again, like he wants to be, Mickey can think _almost_ clearly. Ian should not be able to do what he does to him so easily, but it’s hard not to think about those dirty moments when he’s dressed like he is and flaunting himself in all of the ways Ian knows he loves. How could he not fucking think about how fucking good it felt to have Ian in him? He could roll that thought over and over in his mind and never grow tired of the pleasures it brings him. In fact, if he tracked down the phone he had to ditch when he got locked up, he could probably find some steamy pictures they took together just for shits and giggles. Neither of them really expected those images to be used in their privacy as much as they were.

            Suddenly realizing that the tightness in his jeans is getting worse by the second thanks to his filthy thoughts, Mickey looks down and curses himself out for what he finds. He knew he should have stopped thinking about Ian the moment he walked away, but what else is he supposed to do? Looking around, he quickly makes sure there is no one watching before he pushes himself down and gets back to work. The last thing he needs is for someone to get the wrong idea because he got a little excited over his hot ex-boyfriend who insists on making his life hard. Pun fucking intended.

                        Looking back up at the stage, Mickey sees something he was not entirely prepared to see.  The guy Ian had been dancing with for the past few minutes is still up there and he is _not_ happy. He has his hands firmly clammed on Ian’s hips, hard enough to turn his knuckles ghostly white and hard enough to leave dark bruises on Ian’s skin. From where Mickey stands, he can tell that Ian is insanely uncomfortable and he knows that Ian is choking it back to ensure he gets the tips he needs. Mickey watches the scene carefully and as soon as the man throws his first punch, he is jumping over the counter before he can even blink. He shoves his way through the crowd in a white-hot rage, unsure of what exactly he’s going to do once he makes it across. Nobody touches Ian that way and gets to walk away unharmed. At the edge of the stage, Mickey reaches up and grabs the leg of the man and pulls him down to the floor in one swift yank.

            "Do you think being a douche bag is fucking funny, fucker?" Mickey yells.

            The man sputters, but he does not get a single word out. Losing control of his anger, Mickey throws his fist across the man’s face again and again until he is pulled off by someone else who had been standing behind him. His arm is throbbing from being overused, but Mickey does not care. The man, now enraged, turns to Ian and starts attacking him. Mickey fights to be let go and he eventually gets free, but not before the man swings Ian across the face a couple times. Then, out of the blue, Kev shows up and hits the man so hard on the back of the head that he passes out and drops to the floor. The party essentially resumes after that, which Mickey finds to be a bit unusual. It seems that everybody on the South Side has become desensitized to violence by now.

            Ian, whose face is now bleeding and throbbing, hops down from the stage, grabs his backpack from a booth, and he starts making his way to the exit through the sea of people. Some people try to reach out and touch him, but he bats their hands away in disgust. He’s embarrassed and cannot perform when his face is bleeding. Mickey follows closely behind and grabs his winter jacket from the coat rack because he knows how cold it is outside. Now having to run, Mickey catches up with Ian with ease.

            "Ian, hold on a second. Where are you going?" Mickey calls after him.

            There's a rage inside of Ian that seems to be coming out of nowhere. He's not sure why he does it, but he stops and turns to face Mickey with a heated anger in his eyes. Everything he had been feeling from the moment they shared at the counter has been completely extinguished. All he can feel is anger. "Why are you following me? Aren't you too busy trying to pretend I don't exist?"

            Okay, so that's how this is going to go. Matching the rage, Mickey scoffs and points back to the bar. "What? Do you want me to fucking go back?"

            "No, I want you to be fucking real with yourself for five goddamn minutes of your life," Ian snaps back. “I don’t need you fighting my fucking battles for me when you can’t even manage your own.”

            "Alright... I don't need this shit from you," Mickey grumbles as he turns to leave.

            "Oh, good. Please run away. I don't fucking understand you anymore.”

            Stopping abruptly, Mickey turns around and squares up to Ian threateningly. He doesn’t give a fuck if Ian has a few inches of height on him. "I don't fucking need you anymore, Ian. So why don't you quit following me around like a lost puppy?"

            Although it stings, Ian knows it was only said to hurt him. "And I don't need you anymore either, but here we are. So, what the _fuck_ are you going to do about it?"

            They are dangerously close to each other’s faces. Their lips are only an inch apart. It would be so easy to close the gap and kiss through all of their built-up aggression, but Mickey cannot bring himself to do it. Sighing deeply, he shakes his head and takes a half step back. Being angry is not worth it and it's never going to fix anything. He has to make an effort to make this work. "You're not walking home like that. Your balls are gonna freeze off and I don’t want to help you take care of that kind of frost bite," he says as he rests his jacket on Ian's shoulders.

            Ian looks at Mickey with an expression of amazement; he had no idea he would drop the argument so quickly. Wrapping himself in the jacket to keep himself warm, he makes sure Mickey knows he is grateful by smiling a little. He could have taken the moment to pull his own jacket from his bag, but his mind was set on getting home and out of the Alibi. Sighing, he too lets go of his anger and pushes himself back to being calm and civil. "You didn't have to do that, you know. I could have handled him. Back in the bar, I mean."

            Mickey shrugs and reaches behind him to untie his apron. He will not need it again tonight. "Call it old habit. He was being rough with you and needed to be taught a lesson."

            Ian smirks and hugs the jacket close to his skin. He will never admit it out loud, but he missed wearing Mickey's clothes. They always smell like him and he loves how he smells. "I was just trying to score some extra tip money. I had no idea he was going to be a fucking asshole."

            Mickey laughs and briefly feels his back pocket to make sure however much money he earned tonight is still there and did not fall out in the fight. "I think I lost ever shred of dignity I had in there. So many old guys came up to me and I had to pretend to be fuckin' interested."

            "I know. I was watching you. You looked like you were in pain half the time," Ian says with a laugh even though it makes his cheek throb.

            "I pretty much was. I hate doing that shit," Mickey comments.

            Ian grins as they turn the corner that leads to the apartment complex they now both live in together. The night turned out to be much longer than either of them anticipated and Mickey is glad that they left early because he’s not sure how much longer he could have taken before he lost his mind and killed someone. Once inside, they look at each other for a long moment. They are both way too jacked up on adrenaline to even think about going to bed, but neither can bring themselves to confess just how much they would much rather spend the night with the other. It’s a simple, yet unspoken truth.

            "You look fucking ridiculous in those shorts," Mickey points off as he walks off in the general direction of his room.

            Before Ian can respond, Mickey shuts his door and his previous held guard is let down. He would like to say that his jealously was left at the bar, but it clearly was not when he remains so tense and uneasy. He knows he shouldn't care, the two of them only speak when they really have to or when Mandy sends them on grocery store missions. He wishes he could find something to keep himself grounded, but the only thing his mind keeps asking for is Ian. Groaning, Mickey plops down on the side of his squishy bed where he rests his head in his hands. He has never been this troubled before.

            He's tired of feeling like this and wants nothing more than for it to stop. What makes matters worse is he's not even sure why he is like this. He thought he left all of his feelings behind in Mexico. He thought he came home with brand new intentions and now... He has no idea what's happening. There's no room for him to breathe or think with Ian living under the same roof. All Mickey can do is react on impulse and hope for the best. It’s all he knows how to do and that’s all he has ever done. So far, it seems to have kept him alive but now it’s slowly killing him and he’s not sure how much longer he can keep it up.

            From across the room, Ian cracks the door open and pokes his head in. He can tell right away that something is bugging Mickey just by the way he’s sitting, but he says nothing about it for his sake. He knows what kind of stress he’s under because he’s the one who is responsible for it. "Hey, Mickey. Got a second?" he asks.

            Although he wants to be alone, Mickey chokes back his emotions and lifts his head up. "Sure. The fuck you want?"

            Ian enters the room still wearing those stupid shorts, only he has a sweater on now. "I wanted to give you your jacket back and to thank you for what you did back there. I appreciate it." He says as he rests the winter coat on the edge of the bed. “I know I kind of what off on you outside of the bar… I think I just needed to get some shit off my chest.”

            Mickey looks at the jacket and then at Ian, who feels bad for not having enough to say. There are so many words and apologies left unsaid between them and it's tearing them apart on the inside. Pretty soon, they’re going to start bleeding out. “Do you have some emotional attachment to those shorts or something?” Mickey asks dryly. “Because I'm pretty sure we have a duck around here to help you with that.”

            Ian smirks and looks down at the red and green short shorts that glisten in the moon light. "He's an emotional support duck, not a therapist. And, no. I just know you secretly like them." Ian replies honestly.

            "You don't know shit," Mickey scoffs.

            Ian's mood falters slightly because he hears the truth in what Mickey said. "You're right. I don't know anything because we don't talk. We're adults now, Mickey. Why can't we handle this shit like ones?"

            Mickey shakes his head and opens the drawer with the picture inside. "Because we have so much shit in our way, Ian. History. Did you really expect me to stop loving you just because I went off the grid for a handful of years?" So that’s it. He said it and now he has defiantly has no idea what to do. They want to be friends, but how can they when all they can think about is what the used to feel about each other and how they feel about each other presently?

            Ian is surprised to hear this said out loud, but in a way, ever since Mickey has been back, he has known. Mikey went through hell in Mexico, but the one thing that kept him going was the thought of Ian. Why else would it take Mickey forever to open up to the idea of them being friends? Why else would he safe guard an image in his nightstand when all it is anymore is an old memory that brings him nothing but pain and longing.

            Ian is about to say something, but Mickey holds his hand up to stop the words from even formulating in Ian's mouth. "Don't say anything. I don't need to be fuckin' patronized about this shit. I’m struggling enough with it as it is."

            Mickey feels like he’s losing his mind. He’s doing everything wrong. Ian, on the other hand, seems relatively understanding and instead of leaving like he knows Mickey wants, he sits on the edge of the bed and watches Mickey carefully. "We're really sucking at this friend thing, aren't we?" Ian asks quietly.

            Mickey sighs and looks at the gash on Ian's cheek. "Will you let me take care of that?” He asks while pointing to it. “It's driving me fucking nuts."

            Deciding that his answer is not important, Mickey pulls the first aid kit from underneath his bed and pops the lid open. He grabs one of the packets with the disinfectant wipes in it and tears it open. Scooting closer to Ian, he angles the other’s face in a way where he can see the cut better in the moonlight. Dabbing softly, he cleans off the blood through Ian's hisses of pain.

            "Since when do you play nurse?" Ian asks through a clenched jaw.

            "Keep it in your pants, Ian. This is not roleplay," Mickey deadpans.

            After throwing the wrapper and wipe away in the little trash can, Mickey applies antiseptic to the cut and shrugs his shoulders when he's done. "That's about as good as it's going to get. You should ice it, though," he suggests.

            Sighing, Ian flops down on his back and looks aimlessly up at the ceiling as Mickey packs up and puts away his kit. "Do you ever think about the future, Mick?"

            "Man, are you fucking high? Did somebody at the bar slip you something? I was serious about that pot watch shit." Mickey questions with an eye roll.

            Ian chuckles and turns his head to face Mickey. "Surprisingly, no. That was a serious question. I think about it a lot. "

            Mickey shakes his head and decides to put Ian's sudden shift of mood on the shit they’ve been going through lately. "Yeah, I guess. I've been a little preoccupied with the present, though.”

            In the moment of silence, Mickey weighs their relationship in his mind. For weeks now, they have been skirting around the things they really need to discuss and it cannot go on. The air needs to be cleared and this moment feels as good as any. "Ian... We gotta have a real talk."

Ian rolls onto his side and props himself up on his elbow. He can tell that Mickey is uncomfortable, but the reason why is left to be unsaid. "Uh... Sure? What's up?"

            Mickey stiffly sits up and because he has absolutely no idea what to do with his hands, he begins to fidget with the hem of his shirt. He would prefer to skip this conversation all together, but they never really had it the first time they tried to have a discussion and it needs to be done if they're ever going to get anywhere in their attempted friendship. "The time building up to me leaving was pretty nasty and we only had a few good breaks..." He starts out slowly. "You left for the Military... You came back and then you got diagnosed. Then the shit with Sammi happened. It got so fucked up, Ian. I'm honesty still not okay with it and if you are, then you gotta tell me your secret because this shit is driving me insane. I feel like I'm losing my mind over here, you know?”

            Ian remains silent. When Mickey said they needed to talk, he was not expecting _this_ talk. He actually managed to catch him off guard. "I'm... I'm not okay with it, Mickey. It was fucked up and a lot of it was my fault. I resisted treatment, I broke your heart a thousand times. Fuck, Mick. I tried to pretend like I didn’t care about you when you were gone because I felt so out of order. You were the constant in my life that I needed and I threw it all away,” Ian confesses.

Mickey swallows past the knot that has formed in his throat. He hates to bring this shit up. He hates it because it puts him right back into the emotions he was feeling when it all took place. "I'm at fault too, you know... I shouldn't have messed with Sammi. I should have got you help sooner. I… I could have been better for you. We hurt each other relentlessly and we were going in circles. Something good would happen and then something with rip us up.”

            It feels as if there is a heavy weight on Ian's heart. He has tried so hard to block that time out of his head because when he's not pissed off that it happened, he's either heartbroken or swimming in deep regret. Nothing was working out for them when all Ian wanted was to feel normal so he could love Mickey in the way he deserves. "I’m sorry, Mickey. I will never be able to say that enough. I should have visited you… I-I could have tried harder.  It just hurt so much and then I left you at the fucking border. You were always more than enough for me. You were perfect and… I _love_ … I loved you."

            To hear that Ian thought he was perfect and more than enough is screwing with Mickey’s mind. He always assumed Ian deserved better and wanted more. He always believed Ian deserved more and he still does. This is not what he imagined at all. "Do you ever wonder if we were never meant to be together after all of that shit? Do you think something out there was trying to show us that we were never going to get a happy fuckin' ending?" Mickey asks with a wavering voice.

            Ian shakes his head in immediate disagreement. "No, of course not. We just had really shitty bad luck. Fuck, we still have shitty luck."

            Mickey exhales slowly in an attempt to expel all of the negative thoughts from his head. "We fucking started out with bad luck. We never would have gone anywhere if I didn't piss you off so much. It took me forever to come around, but you... you completely changed me, Ian. I’m not sure who I was before you. Then I went to Mexico and… I changed again," he reminisces with a shaky laugh.

            “We both changed. My meds are all balanced and I’m as close to normal as I can get. I spent a lot of time trying to be okay with happened and the things I did… both when I had you and when you were gone. I have so much regret. But, I can function. I’ve learned to live with it. I can’t change the past,” Ian adds on with touches of sorrow in his voice. Mickey flops back down on his bed and Ian looks down on him thoughtfully. “Now look at us…” He mumbles softly.

            For the first time in a log while, the make eye contact with each other and they both find it impossible to look away again. There’s a certain amount of comfort they find when looking at the other and right now, comfort is exactly what they need the most. Ian knows, one way or another, things will turn sour again. However, for right now, all he can think about it how nice it is to be laying on Mickey’s bed without having to worry for a moment about what the other wants because he simply _knows._ Lowering himself down, Ian slowly reaches out and grabs for Mickey’s hand who, surprisingly, lets him have it.

            “We’re the most fucked up lovers in the South Side,” Mickey laughs quietly.

            Ian smiles and intertwines their fingers, enjoying how it feels to hold his hand again even though he knows that by tomorrow, he will have to let it go. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

            The stress is gone for now and for what it’s worth, they’re comfortable. Come tomorrow, they will wake up and try to figure out where they stand. Forcing themselves to be friends is not what either of them truly wants, but it’s a necessary evil and maybe, one day, they can figure themselves the fuck out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys! Just to let you know, the uploads that occur between November 9th-25th will be a little screwy. I will be in Germany during that time and therefore in a different time zone (I'm from Oregon, USA). I will do my best to continue with uploading every two days to every four days if necessary. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for the Kudos and comments you guys leave for me. 
> 
> ALSO. Now that I have gotten over the bulk of the set up, drama is lurking. ;)
> 
> Have a great Thursday/Friday.
> 
> As always, I apologize for typos.


	15. The Curious Case of Ian Gallagher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alarmed to find Ian has slipped into a worrisome mood, Mickey drags him out of the house to find a Christmas tree for Mandy. Later that day, Ian reveals what exactly happened between him and Fiona and where he initially planned to go before it all came crashing down. 
> 
> WARNING (SPOILER): Mentions of attempted suicide, details are not heavily described.

The quite atmosphere is driving him crazy.

            Growing restless, Mickey quickly dresses and wonders out to the living room. He expects to find Mandy on the couch or possibly Ian in the kitchen making coffee, but not even Alfred and his annoying quacks can be seen or heard. Mickey would understand if Ian was avoiding him given what happened last week. Waking up in each other's arms is a bit unsettling. However, his shoes are still by the front door and no coffee has been made. On any given day, he can expect to be woken up by Ian's insane need to wake up early, but not today. Now it's nearly ten in the morning and he seems to be the only one awake or here for that matter. He finds this apparent scenario to be out of character and almost disconcerting. Ian never sleeps in. It’s not a part of his personality.

            Unsure of what else to do, he navigates his way down the right hallway to Ian's bedroom to only find the door closed. He is supposed to be out getting a Christmas tree for Mandy today, but he will not leave the house until he knows Ian is okay. It would drive him crazy to not check. Knocking lightly on the wood, Mickey waits for a response and gets none. He listens for any indication that Ian may be awake and is simply ignoring the knocking, but nothing can be heard. Growing worried, Mickey opens the door and finds all of the answers to his lingering questions.

            Ian is tucked away in bed, rolled on his side with his blanket wrapped securely around him, and his eyes are trained on the window as he watches the light snowfall. At the sight of the situation, Mickey begins to get a sick feeling in the bottom of his stomach. Walking in on this feels all too familiar and he is worried he may have walked in on a day from the past or one that has painted itself to be identical to another. He's terrified of what this could turn out to be. It has been so long… and he hopes it's not as bad as it looks to be. 

            "Ian, what's going on? Why didn't you respond?" Mickey asks quietly, only to be ignored. Sighing, he tries again with a more concerned voice. "Ian? Are you alright? Have you been taking your meds?" He tries again.

            Ian shifts his eyes to Mickey for a brief second as if looking at Mickey takes too much energy. "Of course... I'm just… I don’t feel great today, I guess," he replies tiredly.

            Mickey gulps with fear. He is glad he got Ian to talk because he knows that it is not always this easy, but this shift is mood is disturbing him deeply. Edging closer to the bed, Mickey watches Ian carefully. He knows what this is. He has seen several of Ian’s episodes before and he’s not about to let Ian slip down the slope now if he can help it. Setting aside everything that has happened between them since he has returned home, he bends down slightly and puts a hand on Ian’s arm in an awkward attempt to bring him comfort. He remembers clearly what Fiona told him to do back when they were first figuring all of this out. See if Ian is willing to go out and if he shows signs that he may be willing to do so, press on it. Getting him up and moving will help him in the long run. 

            “Alright, that’s fine. But you’re coming with me to pick out a tree for Mandy. Let’s get you out of the house, okay?” Mickey urges with a soft tone.

            Ian groans and shifts around in the bed as if to make a point. “No... I wanna stay here. It’s better to stay here. I don’t feel great.”

            Mickey brings a knee to the bed so he can lean over Ian enough to look at his half-hidden face. Seeing Ian like this is killing him. He forgot just how sudden his changes in mood can be. “That’s okay. You can be like this for as long as you want or need to be, but I want you to come with me. Okay? Let’s go. We’re going to make Mandy happy today.”

            Not waiting for a response because he knows Ian will try to decline again, Mickey moves from the bed to the closet and he kindly digs out a thick sweater, jeans, a heavy pair of socks and a pair of clean underwear for Ian. He shuffles back to Ian’s bed and sets the items on the edge as he mentally prepares himself for what he’s about to do. Diving in head first, Mickey pulls back the blanket in a single movement and he grasps Ian’s ankles to bring his legs off the side of the bed. He then carefully sits Ian up and although he is slouching and practically a puddle at this point, he is proud he managed to get this far.

            “Arms up, sleepy head,” Mickey commands.

            Ian is internally fighting with Mickey, but he raises his arms nevertheless and Mickey quickly changes his tank top for the long sleeve he picked out. “Now are you gonna change your damn boxers or are you gonna make me do it?” Mickey questions.

            Ian sighs and looks at the clothes at the edge of his bed. “I’ll do it, just wait outside.”

            Mickey shakes his head. He already knows all of Ian’s tricks. “Yeah, no. You’ll just crawl back in bed if I leave. I know how this works. You forget that I spent a long ass time taking care of you. I know all of your little tricks. I got em’ all memorized, Firecrotch,” he points out as he turns his back.

            Instead of protesting like Mickey expected, Ian does get up to change into the rest of his clothes and he taps Mickey’s shoulder when he is done. Mickey feels horrible about this. In the back of his mind, he’s panicking that he may have done something to trigger this. He’s terrified that the awkward unknown territory between them caused it because he never wanted to be the source of Ian’s problems. For years, he has always tried to be what Ian needed. “Alright, tough stuff. Let’s get you out into the kitchen. Vamonos.”

            Moving forward at a slow pace, Ian moves out to the kitchen and Mickey follows closely behind. He’s ready for any sudden change of mood, but he believes that Ian will be like this for a while. He already spent an unusual amount of time in bed today. He's just glad it's not as bad as it could be or has been in the past. As Ian takes a seat at the table, Mickey pops some bread into the toaster and pours a most likely unhealthy amount of orange juice in a glass for Ian so he has something to take his pills with.

            “Why are you trying to help me, Mickey?” Ian asks as he grasps the large, cold glass in his hands. He’s genuinely confused by the gesture because Mickey has been trying so hard to push him away. “It doesn’t make much sense if I’m being honest… You don't want to be around me half the time,” he mumbles. 

            Mickey is caught off guard by the question because he thought the answer was obvious, but it’s possible the reason got lost in all of the time they have spent apart. “I may be a dick, but I’m a dick that cares about you. We’ve been down this fuckin’ road before and I’ll go down it anytime I need to,” he explains as the toaster dings. “What do you want? Peanut butter or butter… or plain?”

            “Peanut butter,” Ian says inarticulately.

            Grabbing the peanut butter from the cupboard, Mickey puts a decent amount of the slices of toast and delivers them on a small plate to Ian. “Eat that and then we’ll go. You’re not gonna walk around with me today on an empty fuckin’ stomach,” he says warmly. He then brings his hand to the back of Ian’s head to gently run his fingers though his hair and although the touch may have been too intimate, it felt right in the moment.  

            Ian eyes the toast with disgust and Mickey almost finds the look to be adorable. Even though he would rather not eat, Ian still does as he is told and chews on the food that was made for him. Mickey supervises from the other side of the kitchen with his back pressed against the counter, keeping minimal distance between them. He’s setting aside all of his stupid problems for Ian today. After everything they have been through, he knows that it’s important that Ian gets the proper attention he needs today and if that requires him swallowing down his pride and buckling down, he is more than willing to do so. He’ll always be there to look after Ian. He made a promise years ago and he intends to keep it no matter what it takes.

            With a quarter of the orange juice left in the glass and an empty plate, Ian decides he is done. He passes the dishes to Mickey who gladly takes them from him and he finishes the orange juice because, by now, Mickey knows how much Mandy hates wasting food. Moving at a comfortable pace for Ian, Mickey helps him with his shoes, while getting into his own, and he puts Ian in his winter coat and beanie. For whatever reason, in spite of Mickey’s new found hatred for it at the moment, it’s snowing still and he will not have Ian freezing when he is already feeling like complete shit. Together, they leave the apartment and start walking in the general direction of the local outdoor tree store, seeing as Mandy has apparently taken the car for her own use today. Never mind the fact that Mickey said he would need it today for his errands long before Mandy mentioned her own.

            “What kind of tree should we get Mandy?” Mickey asks Ian, hoping to get him engaged in conversation so he’s not swimming alone in his thoughts. "I ain’t getting any of that hybrid shit. We need to get the real deal."

            “Why _are_ you getting a tree?” Ian inquires softly.

            Mickey shrugs his shoulders casually and a soft smile plays on his lips. “We never really had one growing up. Dad never got off his lazy ass, so... and I know Mandy has never had one of her own, so I figured I would fork out the money for a real one this year,” he explains with a hint of sadness in his voice. Talking about his childhood has always been a sore spot.

            “I think she would like a big bushy one. Nothing too tall,” Ian replies.

            Mickey laughs and when they come to a large ice patch on the ground, he carefully navigates Ian around it out of habit. “Well let’s hope there are still trees available. We’re a little late in the game. I guess some people get their tree at the beginning of the month or some shit.”

            Ian does not respond this time and Mickey feels at a loss. He wants to so badly ask Ian what happened, to see if anything happened at all, but while he fears it’s because of him somehow, he also knows that these mood swings could very well occur without a reason. That’s the scary part about Ian’s condition. It’s unpredictable and even with medication it can still flip on him out of the blue. Whatever it is, Mickey intends to help Ian through it in every way he can. Deep down, he has no idea what the fuck he is doing, but knows a little something about depression and he’s helping in the only way he knows how. The typical Milkovich way. Try and try again until something works because, in this case, Ian is not worth giving up on. He would never turn his back on Ian in a time of need. Way back at the beginning, he spent hours in bed with Ian talking to him and being there with him because he knew, even then, Ian needed to know that he didn't have to go through his struggles alone. 

            “Look, Mandy is supposed to be gone all day with Emma. If you’re feeling up for it, do you want to help me decorate the place a bit?” Mickey asks.

            Ian exhales deeply and his eyes find Mickey’s face. He always finds himself staring at Mickey, even when he tries not to. He finds comfort in it. “Maybe.”

            “If you’re not up for it, you can bark orders at me from the couch, alright? Don’t stress about it. That shit can’t be too hard,” Mickey half jokes.

            Coming up on the tree place, Mickey is surprised to see so many families, couples, and children. There are plenty of trees available, but at first glance Mickey knows that most of them will be way out of their price range. He may have made some bank on the night of the pride event, but he is already spending two thirds of it on gifts. Subconsciously, Mickey grabs Ian’s arm and he pulls him to the seven foot trees in the back. Unfortunately as they turn the corner, both boys spot a person they were not expecting to run into today and Ian’s heart pounds with panic. He needs to hide and he needs to do it immediately.

            “She can’t see me like this, Mickey. She’ll start a fight and try to drag me back home,” Ian warns with a quiet voice.

            Mickey shoots a glance at Fiona and before he can think of a proper plan of action, he is shoving Ian in between two of the largest trees, making Ian yelp in surprise, which lean against the fence. “ _Stay fucking put_ ,” Mickey whispers with urgency.

            As of right now, Ian is completely hidden between the trees and while Mickey feels bad for shoving Ian in there, he’s pretty proud of his split second decision making. To further the plan, he dumps all of his attention on the trees and he pretends that he is very interested in them. The last thing he wants is for Fiona to decide that she likes one of the two trees and to discover the Gallagher boy hiding amongst them by moving one.

            “Mickey? What are you doing here?” Fiona asks when she’s closer and realizes who she is standing near.

            “Picking out a tree for Mandy,” Mickey says slowly. He’s not entirely too sure what kind of tone he should be using towards her. It’s not like they have had many encounters since he has been back. Even the ones they had when he was around... he never actually figured out if she liked him or not. 

            Fiona is taken aback by the lack of acid in his voice, but she decides not to comment on it. The last thing she wants is for Mickey to be on her ass when she already feels so bad about what happened with Ian. “I just didn’t expect to see you here, that’s all. How’s Ian? I haven’t heard from him. He only talks to Lip and the other kids.”

            Mickey shrugs and returns his focus on the tree in front of him. “Ian’s fine. He’s at home clearing a spot in the living room for a tree.”

            Fiona frowns as if to say that Mickey’s response was not adequate enough and, honestly, that pisses Mickey off. “Yeah, but how is he? You know... is he taking his meds? Is he working?”

            Trying to bite back his attitude that always seems to come out on impulse, Mickey turns to face Fiona robotically. He has to come up with a good enough lie to get her to go away and he has very little time to think. “I can assure you that Ian is perfectly fine. He’s taking his meds, he’s going to work… We’re taking care of him, Fiona. He’s doing just fine.”

            The words taste a little sour coming out of his mouth because, truth be told, Mickey knows that Ian misses his family. Ian would have loved to stay, Mickey got an earful of it one night when Ian had a little too much to drink one night after a long night of work that he needed to decompress from. He could have dealt with the screaming and yelling and the constant appearances of Frank, but it was the shit that happened between Fiona that truly drove him out. After all that happened, even though Mickey is still in the dark about what _exactly_ took place, Ian was tired of being seen as only his disorder and nothing more. He felt and feels like that’s all Fiona sees him as nowadays.

            As Fiona digests what Mickey told her, her mood shifts into something that resembles sorrow. If she could go back in time to correct all of the wrong that has happened between her and her little brother, she would. She would do anything to get him back, but she knows she has to let go until he’s ready to patch things up. Whether or not she can will herself to do such a thing is another topic.

            “Oh... okay. I was just checking. Have a good day, Mickey. Tell Ian we miss him for me, will you? It wouldn’t be so bad if he showed up on Christmas,” she says as she walks away.

            Mickey waits until he sees Fiona leave the lot before he reaches into the trees and grasps Ian by his belt to pull him out. “Mind telling me why she’s so fuckin’ adamant about your condition? She didn’t care this much when I was around,” Mickey asks in a low voice.

            Ian shakes his head and it’s clear that hearing Fiona talk to Mickey has left a dent on his already low mood. “Things got pretty bad while you were gone, Mickey. Can we just get the tree and go?”

            Knowing that pushing Ian right now is a bad idea unless he absolutely wants to be pushed, Mickey nods. However, before they go, Mickey takes it upon himself to brush all of the pine needles off of Ian’s clothes and face so he looks a little less like he fucked one of the trees. Pulling Ian along by the hand, they examine all of the trees and decline almost every single one of them because of their price. That is, until, they find one tucked away at the very end. Mickey grabs reaches in and pulls the tree out to examine its height and character. The tree stands at about six and a half feet and there are several holes in it. It’s frumpy as hell.

            “Why is it that the only tree in my range looks like it took a fucking beating by a baseball bat?” Mickey asks irritably as he spins the tree to look at the other side.

            Ian suddenly begins to giggle and Mickey nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears it because it’s so clear and unexpected. “It’s perfect, Mick. I love it.”

            Mickey looks at Ian as if he lost his mind. “How is this perfect? Its branches hang all funny, there are several holes, and it’s like the fucking runt of the bunch. Do you see any other six and a half feet tall trees here? No.”

            Ian shrugs his shoulders and grabs the tree for himself. “No, see. It’s perfect because it’s dysfunctional like the rest of us. It’s completely fucked up. Can we please get this one? Please?” Ian begs with a huge smile on his face.

            Because this is the first time Mickey has seen Ian genuinely happy all day and because he finds Ian’s smile to be absolutely irresistible, Mickey cannot say no. And so, that’s the tree they bring up to purchase and wrap. The lady looks at them like they are crazy, but Mickey does not care one bit. If a tree as fucked up as this one can break through to Ian, he would buy a million of them. With a rope over his shoulder and the tree dragging on the snow behind them, Mickey walks back to the apartment with Ian at his side where he belongs. He’s not sure why out of everything the tree did it, but he’s not going to complain. At least now he’ll get help with decorating.

            At the apartment complex, the boys haul the tree up the stairs and through the door and get it stationed on its stand in the corner of the living room near the fireplace. It takes nearly twenty minutes to get it standing straight because Ian could not decide if he was right or not, but it eventually gets there through the extreme cursing and frustrated groans from Mickey as he adjusts the pegs underneath the tree over and over again.

            “You are fucking horrible at giving directions,” Mickey complains as he gets back up to his feet and wipes the pine needles from his dark grey sweater.

            “No, you’re just terrible at listening to what I’m saying,” Ian argues playfully.

            Mickey shoots Ian a warning glare, but he cannot stay mad. Ian is finally happy. Or, at the very least, appears to be happy. In fact, this is the happiest Mickey has seen him since he moved in. “No, you fuckin’ said move it to left, so I moved it to the left. Then you would change your mind and tell me to move it the other way. Let’s get this fucker decorated so we can move onto the other shit. I wanna get this done before Mandy comes home,” Mickey says with an eye roll.

            Pulling the tubs Mickey kept hidden in his room, the boys scatter the decorations and begin the process of making their fucked up tree look a little less fucked up. Out of nowhere, Ian begins to play Christmas music, which Mickey absolutely abhors, but it sets the mood and he certainly does not miss how Ian ‘discreetly’ touches his lower back in passing every time he walks by with a strand of lights or an ornament.

            “Can I ask why the tree was the thing that finally broke through your mood?” Mickey questions as he hangs another bulb on the three. "I mean... I'm not an expert on manic depression o-or whatever..." he stumbles. 

            Ian, from underneath the tree, plugs in the lights and Mickey flinches as the bright colors nearly blind him given how close he was standing to the tree. “It wasn’t really the tree. I’ve been feeling really off lately and I think my body decided that I needed to shut down for a while. You were patient with me, though, and that helped me realized that I can keep going. The tree just finished the job, I guess. I never really know, honestly.”

            Swallowing nervously, Mickey strings the garland around the tree and is careful not to step on Ian’s legs as he does so. “You scared the fuck out of me this morning. Do you want to put the star on the tree or should I?”

            Ian scoots out from under the tree and looks up to the top of it. “I think I should. You’re too short to do it without a piggy back ride.”

            Mickey has to fight the urges within him to throw a punch. Instead, he flips off Ian. “Fuck you, Gallagher.”

            “Don’t hate. You know it’s true,” Ian laughs as he reaches up to put the star on the top of the tree.

            With garland wrapped around his shoulders and strings of lights wrapped around his arms, Mickey walks to various parts of the apartment to start decorating. Ian comes around moments later with more lights and the ladder they were using to decorate the living room curtain racks. The two of them work together to get the place done and by the time the sun sets, all of the lights have been plugged in and Mickey feels accomplished. Back in the living room, he finds Ian on the couch with his head in his hands.

            “Hey, what’s up? What’s going on?” Mickey asks frantically. These moods shifts will be the death of him one day.

            Ian lifts his head up tiredly and sighs weakly. “I tried to kill myself about two years ago, Mickey. I had a really bad break and I got pretty low. Lip stopped me, but that’s why Fiona is acting the way she is. After it happened, she went to my boss and started talking up my condition. She was saying I was unfit and should take some time off when I was perfectly fine. I was better by that point and when I found out, I got pissed because I was forced to take time off.  I almost got fired. Then, when I decided I was going to leave, Fiona had me submitted back into the hospital against my will and she sold my plane ticket,” he confesses.

            Mickey widens his eyes in shock. He sure as hell did not expect that to come out of Ian’s mouth and he’s fucking pissed he was not there for any of it. He would have laid down his life before Ian could ever try to take his own. “Holy shit, Ian,” he blurts.

            Unfortunately, Mickey does not get to say more because Mandy walks in through the door with Alfred held in her arms. Her face is stuck in between being confused and excited, which makes Ian giggle despite the fact he had been miserable a second before.

            “What the hell did you guys do? Why does the apartment look like this?” She asks as she bends down to let Alfred walk around freely.

            “We fuckin’ decorated. What the hell does it look like?” Mickey says with a light shrug.

            Mandy looks over at the tree and she has to stop herself from laughing. The boys made a pretty solid attempt at making it look normal, but it’s still pretty messed up. “We have a real tree... oh my god. This is... We’ve never had a tree before.”

            Mickey sheepishly looks down to the ground in order to avoid his sister’s happiness, but Ian has other plans. “It was Mickey’s idea. He’s been planning this for a while.”

            Mandy suddenly rushes over and she throws her arms around Mickey, who stiffly hugs her back. He’s not used to this kind of reaction out of her. “I knew you had a holiday bone in you somewhere,” she beams happily.

            And Mickey, deep down inside, is mentally saving how this hug feels because it is the first one he has felt from her in a while that is truly genuine.

 

           He has to hear the full story. Mickey knocks on Ian's bedroom door before entering and he closes it quietly behind him when he does. He had a feeling that Ian would slip back into a mood sooner or later, he just hoped it would be later. Ian is perched on the edge of his bed with his legs pulled closely to his chest and his head on his knees. Mickey edges closer and slowly sits down beside Ian, who gives no indication that the company is unwanted.

            "What happened, Ian?" Mickey finally asks.

            It's a sore spot for him. He barely understands what happened himself. "I went on a downward spiral a couple times when you were gone, about two years ago, give or take a few months, was the worst of it. I got so angry at myself for having my condition and the things I had done that I stopped taking my meds again. Then, when I decided that was a bad idea, I found out that Frank sold them. I took it as a sign," Ian begins.

            A knot the size of a baseball forms in Ian's throat. He hates opening up about this stuff, but somebody needs to hear the full story. Not even Lip, who has been there through it all, knows the full story. "My family knew I was losing it. There was a time where I barely got out of bed for a week straight. I never quite got out of that mood. I was looking for anything worth hanging on to. I was and am an EMT, but I was alone, you were gone, and Fiona was starting to become a little over bearing," he recalls softly. "When it became too much for me to handle, I started lashing out and doing stupid shit. Eventually, I got so tired of it and I went to the bridge. I didn't know that Lip was following me and I'm glad he was because I would not be here if he didn't stop me that night. He helped me get better, but Fiona was not entirely trust worthy. Like I said, she went to my boss and sold my ticket out of here," Ian finishes slowly as tears slip down his cheeks. “We haven’t stopped fighting since then. She was trying to do the right thing and was trying to help me, but...”

            Mickey hates to hear this because he wishes he could have been there for Ian. He needed somebody to lean on and he would have been more than ready to do that for him. "Where were you going to go?"

            Ian laughs anxiously and wipes the tears with the back of his hand. "Mexico."

            Mickey does a double take. That must have been a joke. "What?"

            "I didn't have anyone else, Mick. You were the only person I trusted enough and while I had no idea where the fuck you were, I wanted to try," Ian confesses.

            “Do… Do you know what set you off?” Mickey asks carefully.

            Ian looks at Mickey and the heartbreak is screaming in his eyes. “My guilt. I did a lot of fucked up things to you, Mickey. I did a lot of fucked up things to the people I cared about. I basically drug everything we had through the mud and I hated myself for it. My family wouldn’t let me breathe and I was suffocating.”

            Mickey has no idea what to say, so he goes for the first thing his gut is begging him to say. "Do you want me to stay with you tonight?

            Ian nods weakly and moves to open up a space in the bed beside him for Mickey to lay. Without any hesitation, Mickey climbs in and pulls Ian into his arms. He does not care if Ian’s tears are soaking his shirt. He only cares about making sure Ian knows that he is not alone tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Pokes head up from behind your screen*  
> Hey guys! Because I may or may not have internet tomorrow, I have decided to post the next chapter a little early. I hope you enjoy it and look forward to what's to come. Not the bad stuff, obviously. Unless you love angst and drama. Then... Well, I hope you look forward to it. See you all soon (Whenever I get my internet back)! :)
> 
> As someone who has fought with depression before, I feel that it is important to say that you are not alone. If there is ever a time where you feel like you are too tired to keep trying and may consider suicide, please call the national suicide prevention hotline (1-800-273-8255) or reach out to get help. Your life is not worth giving up on. You matter. You are strong. You can keep fighting. 
> 
> As always, I apologize for typos. :)


	16. What Frank Did

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After receiving a text from Lip, Ian and Mickey head to the Gallagher house to find it completely trashed thanks to something Frank got himself tied up in. To make matters worse, when the boys return to the apartment, they are surprised to find an unwanted guest on their couch and a bruise forming on Mandy's face.

He feels completely at peace.

            Mickey opens his eyes and breathes in deeply, catching the faint scent of Ian. He hugs himself closer to the ginger boy beside him and presses his mouth against his shoulder blade. Mickey remembers mornings like this from long ago, but none of which felt quiet like it does now. He’s genuinely happy and there’s no threat looming over him this time. Before Ian can stir awake, Mickey kisses the back of his neck and rolls out of the bed. No matter how much he wants to, he cannot stay. His heart and mind are at war. He wants to hold himself at a distance to protect them both, but he also wants to so badly say ‘fuck it’ and just do whatever the hell he wants to. But he can’t. He looks down on Ian once more, wishing he did not have to leave before grabbing his shirt and socks from the floor and walking out of there.

            “Did you two finally get it over with and fuck?” Mandy asks as Mickey closes Ian’s door as quietly as he can. “That’s like the third time I’ve caught one of you escaping the other’s room in the morning.”

            “No? What the fuck? Ian had a shitty day and he needed comfort. Besides, we’re not even together, douche bag,” Mickey grumbles as he throws his clothes into the laundry room and shuffles into the kitchen for the coffee he smells. “The hell are you being so snoopy for?”

            “You don’t have to be a couple to fuck. Just saying,” Mandy says with a laugh as she takes the next drink from her mug.

            Mickey reaches up into the cupboard for a mug of his own before rolling his eyes. “Yes, thank you for the reminder. Do you not realize that is exactly how Ian and I started our shit?”

            Mandy tilts her head to the side and looks at Mickey from the dining table. “Actually, I’m pretty sure your shit got started because I said Ian attacked me,” she points out.

            “Look, I didn’t come out here to take a trip down memory fuckin’ lane. Are you finished?” Mickey snaps. “Ian and are not fuckin together. Leave it alone.”

            Mandy shrugs her shoulders. “You love him, Mickey. It’s obvious. This friend game you two are playing is ridiculous,” she says almost too loudly. “Even Ian knows it.”

            “Did I ask for your fuckin’ opinion, loud moth? Keep it down. Ian is still fucking sleeping,” he seethes.

            “No he’s not,” Ian mumbles as he comes around the corner with his slightly wild bed head and Mickey finds himself wondering about how much Ian heard.

            “Oh, great. See what you did?” Mickey complains to his sister as he passes Ian the mug of coffee he had originally poured for himself. “You fuckin’ woke him up.”

            Ian hums tiredly, but last night was the best he has slept in months. “I have to go help Lip with something Frank related,” Ian says with a big yawn.

            Mickey, moving on autopilot, pulls out apple slices from the fridge and passes them to Ian to eat. “Frank related? What’s going on?”

            Ian leans up against the counter and shrugs his shoulders. “I have no idea. He just said nobody will be home for a few hours and that he can’t handle it on his own.”

            “Well you’re not fuckin’ going there alone. I’ll go with you,” Mickey says firmly.

            Mandy scoffs and takes her mug to the sink. “And what the hell am I supposed to do all day, huh? You guys were supposed to hang around,” she whines.

            Ian’s mouth is too full of apple slices to respond and Mickey is too irritated to think of anything intelligent. “Does it look like I care?” Mickey grumbles. “Go bug Emma or something.”

            Mandy storms out of the kitchen and Ian burps loudly. “Why is she so pissy?” He asks.

            Mickey throws a hand up in the air as he drinks the rest of his scalding coffee. “I have no idea. She’s been on my ass ever since I came out of your room. She probably hasn’t had a dick in her recently,” he responds bitterly.

            Ian snorts and he turns around to put the rest of the apple slices back into the fridge. “Like you’re one to talk. When’s the last time you got any?” He asks in a joking manner.

            Mickey drags a hand down his face and pauses to pinch the bridge of his nose. Today must be Annoy Mickey day. “Why is my sex life the topic of the fucking morning? It’s been a while, Ian. Don’t we have somewhere to be?” He snaps.

            Ian laughs as he walks off to the bathroom to shower and get dressed. Mickey knows that he won’t have enough time to shower once Ian gets out, so he walks off to his bedroom and changes his clothes. He then walks to the half-bathroom across the hall to brush his teeth and wash his face. Mickey examines himself in the mirror and feels the strong compulsion to punch it. He hates how redundant his life has become.

            Cursing under his breath, Mickey grabs his boots from the front door and slides them on. He then pats around his body in search of his phone, but comes up empty. Curiously, he wanders off to the kitchen to see if he left it in there, but it’s not anywhere to be seen. Groaning, Mickey recalls he left in the bathroom last night. Walking down the hall, he waits until he hears glass door close before knocking on the door.

            “Ian? I left my damn phone in there and I need my deodorant,” Mickey says loudly as he is in competition with the bathroom fan and groaning pipes.

            “Come in and get it, then!” Ian yells back.

            Although he feels slightly nervous, Mickey pushes past the door and spots his phone on the edge of the sink. In the mirror, Mickey catches sight of Ian behind the foggy glass of the shower and he gulps anxiously. He can’t actually see past his shoulders, but it’s still driving him crazy on the inside.

            “Are you not showering, Mick?” Ian asks all of a sudden.

            Mickey jumps slightly at the sound of his voice. “Uh… no. I figured if the situation is Frank related, we should get there as soon as possible.”

            Ian laughs quietly and, fortunately for him, the sound of it is masked by the groaning of the pipes. “You could join me, you know.”

            “That’s gay, Gallagher,” Mickey mutters on impulse.

            “Says the gay man,” Ian retorts.

            Mickey sighs and turns around to face Ian instead of stealing glances at him through the mirror. “What exactly are you getting at, Ian?” He demands.

            Ian rinses out his hair and shuts off the shower. Mickey was not exacting it, but Ian immediately opens the glass door to grab his towel from the rack and Mickey has to try extremely hard to not look at anything but Ian’s face.

            “I’m not getting at anything. I was just offering,” Ian says simply as he, finally, wraps the towel around his waist.

            Mickey lets out the breath he had unintentionally held and he’s sure his face is red as hell, but he’s trying to not care about it. “Can you just go get your white ass dressed?” He asks coldly. “We don’t have all damn day.”

            Ian grins and walks out of the bathroom, but he pauses to say one last thing. “Thanks for staying with me last night, Mick.”

            And in Ian’s wake, Mickey leans himself against the sink. “I’m so fucked…” He mutters.

 

            Lip sent Ian a series of urgent texts, describing how important it is that he shows up sooner rather than later. Neither of the boys knew what to expect when they walked into the house, but they certainly did not expect to find the mess in front of them. Ian’s jaw drops in surprise and Mickey is, to say the least, astounded. This is more than the two of them could have ever imagined together. In fact, Mickey is not sure if he has ever seen a mess worse than this and that’s saying lot considering his father always lacked the ability to clean.

            “Holy _fucking_ shit,” Mickey blurts.

            Lip pokes his head up from behind the kitchen counter with blood trickling down his neck and a wrench in his hand. Water sprays all over the place from the busted sink, soaking anything it can touch. All of the towels that the Gallagher’s own, and some articles of clothing, have been strewn about on the floor to try and mop up the mess, but it hardly makes a dent in the swimming pool that has become the floor. While the water is a huge problem, it hardly scratches the surface. The dining table is in pieces, two of the windows are broken, the couch has been torn to shreds, and it seems that all pieces of paper in the house has been thrown around and set on fire in some places. To top it off, Frank Gallagher is half naked, bloody, and passed out of the stairs with a body decorated in various bruises.

            “What the fuck happened?” Ian asks with a high pitched voice.

            Lip points a finger at the man on the stairs and grabs a paper towel for his neck. “ _He_ happened! All of a sudden, Franks shows up at the house in a rampage followed by four guys who were trying to beat the shit out of him! Apparently, Frank owes a fuck ton of money and they trashed the place to make a point,” Lip explains angrily.

            “Where are the kids? Are they okay?” Mickey asks.

            “Yeah, I shipped their asses to hang with Veronica. Fiona hasn’t been home for three days, I assume she’s with Jimmy-Steve, but she will lose it if she sees this,” Lip says.

            Ian opens his mouth to say something, but Mickey cuts him off. “Wait… Jimmy is back? When did that happen?”

            “Mickey, not the point,” Ian butts in. “What are the guys gonna do if they don’t get the money Frank owes them?”

            Lip sets the wrench on the counter and grabs a new towel to put over the faucet. “Apparently they’re gonna kill us off one by one and then move onto our friends. That includes you, Mickey. They were not messing around,” Lip says grimly.

            With wide eyes, Ian and Mickey exchange looks of panic. Lip, on the other hand, snaps his fingers to get their attention. “Hey! Will one of you please hold this so I can go shut off the fucking water? I can’t stand here and do it at the same time.”

            Moving first, Mickey sheds his jacket and steps carefully over to the sink. He holds the rag that slows the water flow, but he’s still getting sprayed.

            “Looks like you get your shower after all,” Ian comments with a grin as he hangs his jacket up beside Mickey’s and opens the back door. “Should have just joined me while you had the chance.”

            “Shut the fuck up, Ian,” Mickey snaps.

            Laughing, Ian grabs a squeegee from the corner of the room and he starts pushing the water out of the house the best he can. It’s gonna take forever to do it that way, but they have to start somewhere. Eventually, the pipes groan and the water stops flying out of the faucet. Lip reappears with a wild look in his eyes. “Fiona is here. Tell her _nothing_ about the threat. She’s already going to be stressed about paying for the damages,” he warns seriously.

            Getting to work, all three boys pull trash bags out from under the sink and start throwing trash, towels, and clothes into them. Mickey bends down to start picking up glass shards when the sound of Fiona’s gasp can be heard from the front door. Ian freezes briefly, but resumes when Mickey nudges for him to keep going. Fiona is not here for him today.

            “What… the… fuck?” Fiona yells as she storms into the kitchen where the cleaning committee has taken place.

            “Hello, Fiona. Nice of you to join us,” Lip says warmly as he grabs Frank by the ankles and pulls him down from the stairs not caring that his head thumps on each step down.

            “What the fuck happened in here?” She practically screams.

            Ian and Mickey point to Frank and Lip nods as he essentially throws Frank’s body outside in the cold through the backdoor. “Frank happened. Wanna help?” Lip asks casually. “There’s a whole lot of mess here.”

            Fiona looks like she is about to pass out and, honestly, none of the boys can blame her. Lip nearly lost his mind when he heard the yelling happening downstairs and it only got worse when he saw what exactly was going on.

            “Oh my… Oh my fucking god. I-I… Jesus Christ, Frank,” Fiona sputters. She has no idea how she’s going to cover all of the expenses. This is going to be a nightmare and it’s the kind of nightmare she had hoped she would never have to handle ever again.

  


            Ian and Mickey look at each other and start bursting out with laughter. After the shit show they just went through at the house, they cannot wait to relax on the couch for a while before they have to start worrying about the money Frank apparently owes. Well, that was their plan until Mickey unlocks the door and pushes it open. There, on the couch, is a man that Mickey recalls all too well and he would be lying if he said his instincts to kill didn’t spike through the roof. It’s almost impressive how quickly he can get into a homicidal mood.

            “What the _fuck_ are you doing in here?” Mickey spats scathingly.

            Mandy comes around the corner with a beer in her hand and a pretty decent bruise forming on her jaw. She gives it to Kenyatta and gives her brother a fond look. “Kenyatta and I ran into each other on the street, so I brought him here for a few drinks. Isn’t this great, guys?” She asks with fear in her eyes.

            “No, it’s fuckin’ not. I thought you were done with this shithead?” Mickey questions.

            Ian, seeing the truth in the situation, grasps Mickey’s arm and starts dragging him down the hall until he can shove Mickey into his room. Closing the door behind him, Ian presses his back to it and looks to Mickey with panic on his face.

            “She didn’t bring him here by choice,” Ian whispers.

            Mickey raises an eyebrow and waits for Ian to finish his sentence, but he never does. “What is that supposed to mean? He didn’t just fucking teleport here.”

            Ian locks the door before grabbing each of Mickey’s arms and pushing back to his bed. “I know. I think Kenyatta came back looking for her. Like Mandy said, they ran into each other and I think she was too scared to turn him away. Think about it, Mickey. Mandy has been doing really good. Why would she go back to him?” Ian explains as quietly as he can.

            Mickey does the equation in his head and it unfortunately makes sense. “Well what the hell are we supposed to do about it? Kenyatta is not a small guy!” Mickey yells and Ian immediately clamps a hand over his mouth.

            “Are you trying to get us killed?” Ian asks. “Keep your voice down,” he urges.

            Mickey shoves Ian’s hand away and he glares at him through the darkness of his room. “Look, I can’t be caught doing illegal shit, Ian. It was luck when they threw out my case. If it’s alright with you, I’d rather not go back to Mexico.”

            Ian sighs and looks back at the bedroom door as if he’s expecting Kenyatta to come bursting through it. “We’re already gonna have to do some illegal shit to pay off Frank’s debt. What do you say, Mick? One last ride? After this, no more of the big-time illegal shit.”

            Mickey feels like he’s stuck, but his roots are so deeply embedded in doing things the way he always done them. He simply cannot refuse. “One last time,” he agrees.

            Ian smiles and because he’s so caught up in the moment, Ian plants a kiss on Mickey’s forehead. “Great. I’ll take Mandy and see if I can figure out what she wants us to do.”

            “Uh, no. Kenyatta hates my guts and I’m half his fucking size. If you talk to him, at least you have that advantage,” Mickey argues.

            Grinning, Ian lightly jabs Mickey’s shoulder. “It’s not my fault you drew the short straw in the family genetics.”

            Irritated, he thumps Ian’s forehead hard enough to leave a red mark. “Fine, dickhead. I’ll take Kenyatta. We’re not fucking killing him, though.”

            “Nobody said we fuckin’ had to. Just distract him so I can talk to Mandy for a couple of minutes,” Ian says bluntly. 

            Mentally preparing himself for what is probably going to be the most awkward few minutes of his life, Mickey exits his room and pads out to the kitchen with Ian on his tail. Mandy looks at them with discreet panic and Ian gestures for her to follow him, leaving Mickey alone with Kenyatta. He has more than half a mind to run and get his gun before anything stupid can happen, but he refrains. This cannot go south real fast.

            “So… How was prison?” Mikey asks casually.

            “I was just walking home from Emma’s. I ran into him on the street. I fucking thought he was locked up in jail across the country.”

            Ian plops down on the edge of his bed beside his best friend and he looks to her sadly. “Do you think he changed at all? I mean, not like a matters because he’s a shithead either way… and that bruise on your chin kind of answers my question anyways.”

            Mandy, truthfully, is having a hard time thinking clearly when the man she is so terrified of is standing in the kitchen. “No. He hasn’t changed. If anything, being in prison made him worse. I tried telling him no and he threatened me, Ian. Then he slapped me because I tried getting Emma to come over so I wouldn’t be alone with him.”

            “Okay, so it’s settled. I’ll go tell Mickey,” Ian explains as adjusts the sleeve of his shirt that insists on crawling up his arm.

            “I’m confused. What am I missing?” Mandy asks cautiously.

            “Well, you see,” Ian says thoughtfully, “Mickey and I are more than willing to get rid of him for you. Do you want us too?”

            Mandy opens her mouth only to close it right after. This was not the question she was expecting. “The two of you want to get rid of Kenyatta? As in get _rid_ of him?”

            Ian sighs and shoots a glance at Mandy. “That’s not necessarily the point, but yes. Did he ask you to get back together and you were too scared to say no? We can take care of him for you, Mandy. All you have to do is say yes.”  
  
            Mandy waves her hands and clamps one of them over Ian’s mouth. “He could hear you, Ian!” She whispers frantically.

            Ian pulls her hand away to explain the situation. “No he won’t. Mickey is keeping him occupied while we talk.”

            “ _Mickey?_ Kenyatta hates Mickey!” She responds hastily.

            “Can you just answer the question?”   
  
            Mandy silently nods her head and looks to the ground in defeat. “He’s so much bigger than me, Ian. I didn’t have many options. Are you sure you guys wanna do this?”

            To provide her some comfort, Ian throws his arm around Mandy’s shoulders. “Mickey and I’ll get rid of him for you.”

            “How? He’s a beast.”

            “Not sure yet, but we’ll figure it out. Good talk,” Ian says as he gets up and leaves his room.

            Ian is about to pull Mickey aside to update him on the situation, but there is entirely new one occurring on the kitchen that neither Ian nor Mandy was prepaid to see. As it turns out, Kenyatta found no humor in Mickey’s question about prison and he now has Mickey in a tight headlock as he squirms to break free.

            “Oh my god! What the fuck?” Mandy yells as she brings her hands to her face in panic.

            Ian is the first to move. He walks right up to Kenyatta and punches him in the face, but that seems to have only pissed him off further.

            “Get him the fuck off of me!” Mickey yells through a clenched jaw. His face is getting dangerously red and unless Ian thinks of something, he’ll be passing out soon from the lack of air he’s getting. Moving quickly, Ian grabs a wooden spoon from the utensil drawer and jumps up on the counter to get a height difference. Mandy, in the meantime, does her best to distract Kenyatta.

            “Baby, come on. Let him go. Let’s go back to my room, okay?” She urges falsely.

            Mickey pounds his fist against Kenyatta’s arm in a last ditch attempt to get free, but it’s too late to be thinking about that when he’s clearly stuck.

            “No! This white ass freak you call your brother thought it would be funny to ask about my time in the shithole! Who fucking does that, Mandy? This douchebag deserves to be taught a lesson,” Kenyatta replies with a booming voice.

            “Mickey does! Mickey does that shit! He’s a fucking idiot!” Mandy yells.

            “You fucking asked him about prison?” Ian blurts from on top of the counter.

            “Consider the lesson taught, motherfucker!” Mickey seethes as black dots begin to cloud his vision.

            Seeing no other option, Ian jumps onto Kenyatta’s shoulders from the counter. Mickey tucks his head down in order to dodge Ian’s heels that clash down on the top of his head instead. Using his thighs, Ian squeezes as hard as he can while he whacks Kenyatta’s head with the spoon repeatedly. Granted, he is a much better fighter than this, but he’s trying really hard to prevent Mickey from getting hurt. As he tries to shake off the red headed Gallagher, Kenyatta stumbles to the living room. Mandy is yelling on the top of her lungs, but nobody can quite understand what she’s saying. Knowing that he needs to help, Mandy dives to the floor and wraps herself around Kenyatta’s right leg.

            “Get the fuck off of me, spider monkey!” Kenyatta yells at Ian.

            Still squeezing and whacking, Ian holds on. However, when they get closer to the fireplace, Ian is able to grab the iron poker from the mantle and before Mickey can pass out, Ian lifts it above his head and uses it to crack down on Kenyatta’s skull hard enough to make him lose consciousness. Collapsing like a pile of pudding, Kenyatta drops to the ground and Ian is thrown over the back of the couch.

            “Jesus _fucking_ Christ!” Mickey yells as he skirts away while violently coughing.

            Ian pokes his head up and examines the passed out man by the fire place. “I think he’s going to be out for a while.”

            “Why the fuck would you ask him about prison? Have you lost your fucking mind?” Mandy screams at her older brother.

            “What the fuck else was I supposed to say? I warned Ian he hated me!” Mickey yells back with frustration as he rubs his neck.

            “Guys…” Ian attempts.

            “What? You couldn’t think of something slightly more intelligent than that? Are you seriously that fucking dense?” Mandy argues as she jabs a finger at Mickey.

            “I told Ian it was a bad fucking idea to begin with! What was I supposed to fucking ask about?” Mickey yells as he points to the ginger behind the couch.

            “ _You_ _guys!_ ” Ian yells and it fortunately gets their attention. “What are we going to do with him? He’s gonna freak the fuck out when he wakes up.”

            Mickey looks between the body and Mandy before throwing his hands up in the air. “Tie him up and gag his ass. I don’t give a shit.”

            Mickey storms out of the room then with a serious headache. In the living room, he can hear Mandy and Ian dragging Kenyatta, but he does not care enough to offer his help. Instead, Mickey goes to his room and kicks the door shut. The neighbors are all probably pissed and or worried about the commotion, but considering only ex-convicts live in this building, he would assume they’re used to this kind of excitement days before Christmas morning. Hell, it wouldn’t be a Milkovich Christmas without some sort of fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha... Oh, things are going to get complicated for the boys REAL fast.


	17. Russians and Their Killer Drama

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going through the motions of a slow paced Christmas, Ian decides to push the limits with Mickey to see how far he can go. Later, Svetlana reveals why exactly she needed the money.

For the first time, in a long time, he has a shot at celebrating today right.

            Ian slips out of his bedroom quietly wearing nothing more than a pair of sweatpants that hang loosely on his hips and a pair of fuzzy Christmas themed socks. He carefully skirts through the kitchen, pausing for a single moment to wave to Mandy, who grumbles at him tiredly with a coffee mug held between her hands. She has not been getting a whole lot of sleep thanks to the man she has kept tied up in her closet. At the end of the left hallway, he tries Mickey’s doorknob and is pleased to discover that it is suspicious unlocked. Stepping in, he closes the door behind him and walks right up to the edge of the bed with a mischievous smile plastered on his pink lips. Mickey is still deeply asleep on his stomach, an arm tucked under his pillow, and he appears to only be wearing a pair of boxers which is a little unusual given how cold it has been. Knowing that what he is about to do is an asshole move, he jumps and pounces right on top of Mickey’s perfect sleeping form.

            “Merry Christmas, Mickey!” He cheers happily.

            “Oh, my _fucking_ god,” Mickey complains groggily. With limbs that are still waking up, he forcibly rolls himself over onto his back so he can get a better look at his attacker.

            Ian moves to straddle Mickey’s thighs, giving him some room to adjust to the new addition to his bed. This is not how Mickey wanted to wake up today. He half expected it to be some ghost from his past pouncing on him, not the giddy ginger haired boy who looks down on him now.

            “How the hell did you get into my room?” Mickey asks, rubbing his eyes.

             “You didn’t lock it,” Ian replies bluntly.  

            “Damn it,” Mickey mutters as he drags a hand down his face. He’s too tired to even want to consider why he left his door unlocked when he has been so adamant about it ever since Kenyatta turned up. “Okay, is there a particular reason why you’re on me? Cause if you’re not gonna suck my dick, I would like to wake up at my own pace, Gallagher.”

            Ian titles his head and playfully slips his fingertips underneath the waistband of Mickey’s boxers. “Do you want me to suck your dick?”

            Propping himself up on his elbows, Mickey looks up at Ian with bewilderment. “Jesus Christ, Ian. It was a joke,” he dodges with cheeks that are slowly turning red.

            Ian then grinds his hips forward enough to feel how hard Mickey is beneath him. “I dunno… You feel pretty needy to me,” he points out.

            Mickey bites back his groan and grasps Ian’s hips to get some leverage to flip the boy off of him. “Do you always get in this weird ass mood on Christmas? Since when do friends give each other blow jobs just because?”

            “You’re serious asking that question in the context of us?”

            Ian, being much more awake than Mickey, uses this advantage to flip them back over so Mickey is successfully pinned beneath him once again. The movement caused Mickey to grind down on Ian’s thighs and it takes everything he has not to fucking moan in his ex-lover’s ear.

            “You are fucking impossible,” Mickey complains.

            Grinning, Ian dips down and his breath ghosts on the other’s neck in a way that practically makes him squirm with excitement. “Tell me you want me.”

            Although he is feeling more than ready to let Ian suck his dick because he has thought about the scenario so many times over, Mickey sighs, pushes Ian off of him, and climbs out of his warm bed. Ian wanted to be friends, so that’s what he’s going to get. “Keep it in your pants, Gallagher,” he mutters.

            Long before Ian can say anything more, Mickey walks right out of his room and directly to the bathroom on the other side of the apartment. He needed out of there before he lost his mind. He has getting way too hard, way too fast, and he was afraid Ian would actually try to do something because he fucking knows he wouldn't be able to tell him no. Because of the paranoia that stems from the tied up man in Mandy's closet, Mickey makes sure to lock the bathroom door before he sheds his boxers. While under the warming shower water, he looks down at this painfully hard dick and sighs deeply with agitation. He cannot remember the last time he relieved himself. With a hand that slides down his length, he is about to do something about it, but the fact that Ian walks right into the bathroom as if the door was never locked has him abruptly stopping. 

            “Ian, what the fuck?” Mickey asks with a slightly high pitched voice. He is thankful the glass is fogged enough to cover most of his exposed body. He knows he shouldn’t care because Ian has seen him naked more times than he can count, but this is not the kind of scenario he would have wanted Ian to walk in on.

          Leaning himself up against the sink, Ian shrugs and gestures to the closed bathroom door. “I know the trick to unlock them,” he says simply, biting his bottom lip suggestively. “We need to discuss Mandy’s Christmas present.”

            Mickey is flustered. Not only does he have a hard, touch craving, cock, but now Ian is in the bathroom making it worse and Ian just so happens to want to talk about the gift they’ve been planning on getting Mandy this year. “You’re killing me. I’m gonna go back to Mexico just so I can avoid your crazy ass,” Mickey jokingly threatens, but it sounds mildly serious.

            That is, of course, the exact moment where Ian starts stripping out of his clothes. Mickey starts to panic now. He barely has enough time to cup himself before Ian is slipping in and closing the shower door behind him.

            “You have a _really_ fucked up definition of friends,” Mickey says in an annoyed voice, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. He doesn’t care that Ian has joined him so much, but it’s more or less making it very difficult to make the erection he has  _go_ _away._

            Ian shakes his head and he casually invades Mickey’s personal space to get under the water with him. “It’s easier to be in one room together to discuss things if Mandy thinks we’re fucking. She saw me come in here. The pipes are loud enough to hide what we’re saying.”

            “You could have not come in here at all! We both have working phones. We could have texted each other like normal fucking humans, prick,” Mickey argues.

            “Yeah, but I did… so…” Ian replies, crowding further into Mickey’s space.

            Mickey leans his head back to get his head out of the water, but it seems to only entice Ian further. Trying not to grin, he shakes his head and keeps his dick securely covered. Although it would be insanely easy and, frankly, fucking amazing to cave in… that’s not the point of today and it goes against what they swore to do.

            “So that meant you had to get in the damn shower too? What the fuck is going on inside that head of yours?” Mickey sputters.

            “I’ll let you know when I figure it out,” Ian says with a simple shrug as he suggestively looks down and Mickey would be fucking lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the way Ian’s eyes stare at his body. “Now you can either continue to be a baby or we can start figuring out the gift situation before Mandy figures it out.”

            Mickey has to take a second to collect his thoughts. This is not how he saw his Christmas morning going. He figured he’d wake up, take a shower, and drink some coffee. Not get body slammed by Ian, have Ian nearly give him a blow job, and then have Ian invade his shower to discuss a puppy. It’s slightly traumatizing and he has enjoyed every second of it past the initial shock of Ian’s actions.

            “You owe me for this shit,” he says firmly as he pulls his hands away from his crotch and resumes his shower taking process. Ian looks down with a coy grin and Mickey rolls his eyes. In any other situation, he’d be dying with excitement. “We need to make sure Mandy doesn’t show up before we are ready. Somebody needs to get the dog and somebody needs to occupy my fuckin’ sister.”

            “I’ll take Mandy,” Ian offers.

            “Why the fuck do you get Mandy _again?_ I barely know how to get to the shelter. You’re the one that found the place.” Mickey complains.

            “It’s not my fault you’re too short to see the street signs,” Ian says with a laugh and he has to cover his mouth to stop it from getting too loud.

            Out of irritation, Mickey socks Ian on the arm hard enough to make him wince. “Shut your fucking face with your fucking short jokes.”

            Ian grabs Mickey by the shoulders to press his back against the wall of the shower while he giggles helplessly. “I get Mandy cause she’s my friend. I know how to occupy her.”

            Mickey reaches up and pinches ear hard enough to make him cower down. “ _You. Owe. Me._ I did not want to drive halfway across Chicago on Christmas.”

            “You keep saying that, but you haven’t told me what you want me to do while I owe you,” Ian says as he bats Mickey’s hand away.

            Wrestling in the shower is not particularly advised in the United States of America, but that’s exactly where this conversation leads up to. Mickey pushes Ian back until he’s the one against the wall, only to have Ian jab Mickey in the ribs. The keep at it until an elbow goes to Ian’s cheek and a fist slams on Mickeys face as they collapse to the ground. To make matters worse, Mandy is suddenly pounding on the door.

            “What the fuck are you guys doing in there? Hurry your asses up! I need to get in there and you guys are hogging the fucking shower!” She calls loudly.

            Mickey looks at Ian and Ian looks at Mickey. They’re both bleeding now, but neither one of them can stay in the shower for another minute. Rushing out, Mickey grabs a towel and wraps it around his waist on the way out. He pushes directly past his sister and bolts straight to his room to change and to stop his cheek from bleeding on the inside of his mouth. He’s not entirely sure why they started fighting, but he’ll take it over sexual frustration any day. Grunting, Mickey drops his towel and pulls on the first set of clothes he can find. He’s not going to let his Christmas get ruined because of a crappy errand, a horny red head, and a sister who willing lets a duck into the apartment from time to time.

 

            “So, you shop for puppies now.”

            Mickey spins around and spots Svetlana walking up to him with two shopping bags in her hands. He gulps with unknown anticipation and pulls the cash that he plans on donating to the ‘Frank’s Drug Dealers Cause’ from the ATM machine. “It’s for Mandy. She’s wanted one since she could walk.”

            Svet nods her head and gestures down to the bags she holds in her hands. “I was out getting some extra gifts for Yevgeny before he wakes up. I could make one of them from you if you like?” She offers.

            Mickey stares at her, unsure of what to make of her kindness. It feels oddly fake. “Um… Y-Yeah. Could you also give him this? I’ve been carrying it around for a while.” He agrees as he pulls a slightly beat up envelope from the depths of his inside coat pocket. Inside, it contains a Christmas card. He bought it a couple weeks ago when he passed the isle of cards in the grocery store. Although his child may not remember who he is, he still wants Yev to have something from him that he can hang onto. In it, he wrote everything he has ever wanted to say to the kid. He never intended for it to actually go to Yev, but he has to start acceptance somewhere.

            “I was hoping I could speak with you if you have the time, Mikhailo,” Svet says as she slides the card into one of the bags, probably with the gift she will say is from Mickey.

            Nodding, Mickey guides Svet to a nearby table in front of a Starbucks. The puppy yelps quietly in his kennel, making the people around them smile and try to get glimpses of him. Mickey is not entirely sure why he’s being so willing to talk to Svet. It could be the holiday or it could be his tolerance is remarkably low for drama today considering the morning he had took up most of his mental capacity for shit today, but it still feels strange. The two of them never really got along and while it is for a good reason, it’s a miracle that these two can even sit at the same table together without wanting to throw a punch or two.

            “What did you want to talk about?” He asks. “I don’t have all fuckin’ day. I gotta get this puppy back home before Mandy gets back,” Mickey rushes, already feeling anxious.

            Sighing, Svet runs a hand through her hair and she begins to fidget with her scarf. She of course knows how this is going to blow over, but she has to bring it up. “Terry was not lying when he said the money was for Yevgeny. That man was horrible, but he was trying to protect our son. That money was important.”

            Mickey scoffs and leans back up against his chair. He cannot believe he has to deal with this again when he thought it was over months ago. “Jesus Christ, Svet. This shit again? What do you mean protect our son?”

            “There were some guys that came into town looking for me. They want me to go back to Russia and if I do not go, they will hurt my Yevgeny. However, I can pay them off. I’ve been paying as much as I can, but I needed extra money,” Svet explains. She’s usually not one to ask for help when she has always found a way to do things on her own in her own way, but this is different and involves the life of her child. She will not let anything happen to him.

            “Shit… What the hell? Why the fuck didn’t you tell me sooner? Is the kid okay?” Mickey questions as he heart begins to speed up a little. He may not be in his son’s life, but he still cares about him more than he will ever know.

            “Like I said, I’ve been paying as much as I can monthly. Yevgeny will be fine, but I need the rest of the money.”

            Confusion is now weighing in on Mickey. When he asked Kev and Veronica about Svetlana, they told him she married some old rich guy. The fact that she has been so adamant on some money that never belonged to her in the first place is not adding up. “Hang on… If you need the money so bad, why don’t you just pull it from your husband? I thought he was fuckin’ loaded or whatever?”

            Svet nods her head along with his questions. “His son is watching the money like a hawk. If I dare pull more than I am allowed for the month, he throws us out. I have to show receipts for everything. I would kill the son of the bitch if I had the opportunity,” she responds bitterly.

            Mickey is not sure why, but he believes her. There’s something about the way the two of them are communicating that is making this a hell of lot easier than it ever has been. “Look, that money is fuckin’ gone. I can’t spare shit right now cause we’re all trying to pay off some fucking drug dealers Frank got himself wrapped up in. I got nothing.”

            Although she was hoping some money could be kicked her way, she understands. She has been in this town for many years now and she knows how it works. “Then I will kill them. Thank you for listening to me,” she says as she gets up.

            “Hey, wait a minute. Make sure none of this blows back on Yev, alright? Kid needs his mom.” Mickey calls after her.

            “Yevgeny is safe,” she reassures him.

            Now only accompanied by the puppy, Mickey sighs and runs a hand down his face. He’s not entirely sure when he started to care about Yev so much. For a long time, all he saw Yev as was a byproduct of the rape his father forced him into. Somewhere in his time in Mexico, his way of thinking changed. It’s not Yev’s fault Terry is a homophobic freak that would rather have his son be raped than have him healthy and happy and Mickey eventually learned to understand that. Sighing, he gets up to his feet and lifts the dog kennel along with him. He needs to get back home where things make a little more sense... ignoring the fact that there’s currently a man tied up in his little sister’s closet.

            Mickey comes out of his room with two presents in his arms. Ian is on the couch with a cup of hot chocolate and Mandy is perched on the edge of the coffee table with a mug of tea. Christmas music plays softly from the expensive record player Mandy stole from somewhere and there’s a warm fire burning in the fireplace. Mickey looks between the two of them and scoffs. He thinks they’re not being merry nearly enough for this holiday to be celebrated right.

            “Would it kill you to smile? Jesus.” he grumbles as he unloads his gifts under the tree.

            “Says the person who’s not smiling,” Ian comments bluntly.

            Mickey looks over his shoulder to shoot Ian a glance. “Yes, thank you for that observation, captain obvious. Did you have to drive all over town today and deal with your ex-wife? No. You didn’t.”  
  
             Mandy sets her mug down to look between both boys with an amused expression. “You guys fight like an old married couple,” she says casually.

            Mickey rolls his eyes in annoyance and moves to plop down on the couch beside Ian and he sat a little closer to him than he planned for. “Alright. Who’s playing Santa this year? I ain’t doin’ it.”

            Ian perks up and grabs the Santa from the mantle of the fireplace. Mickey has to admit that Ian does make a pretty hot Santa and suddenly he’s thinking back to those booty shorts and the way Ian moves his body when he’s wearing them.

            “Alright. The first round of gifts goes to Mandy,” Ian says as he pushes her small pile over to the coffee table.         

            Mandy picks up the first one, a gift from Mickey, and tears the paper away to reveal a gift card to her favorite store and a dog collar. Mandy is about to make a sarcastic comment about being kinky with collars, but Mickey cuts her off with a wave of his hand.

            “Don’t say shit yet. A German Shepherd at the pound just had a bunch of puppies and I adopted one for you. Her name is Lilly, but please feel free to rename the thing,” Mickey explains.

            Ian gets up from his place on the floor and runs back to Mickey’s bedroom to scoop up the puppy and bring her out. Mandy’s eyes practically double in size and she excitedly takes the puppy into her arms as the puppy licks at her face and makes a bunch of cute noises.  “I have always wanted a puppy, Mick.”

            “Yeah, I fuckin’ know. That’s why I got you one. Ian tracked it down, it’s kind of dual gift from the both of us. Merry Christmas, Mandy,” Mickey says as he accepts the warm spiked apple cider that Ian offers him.

            Moving onto the next present, Mandy opens the gift from Ian. Like Mickey, he got her a gift card, but he also got her about four pairs of fuzzy socks, a bunch of her favorite candy, and concert tickets so she can go have fun with Emma. She leans over to hug him and then Ian pushes Mickey’s gifts over. Mickey is not particularly used to getting gifts, so this experience feels little off to him. Grabbing the one for Mandy, Mickey rips the paper off and finds a bottle of his favorite whiskey.

            “Aye… I’ve been out of this for weeks. Thanks, Mandy,” he says with a smile.

            She smiles back and urges for him to open his next gift from Ian, already knowing what it is. The gift is contained in a holiday envelope decorated with many faces of the Grinch, so Mickey of course sends a glare towards Ian because he knows the reason why he picked this envelope out of the many others that had to of been to choose from. Rolling his eyes, he carefully tears open the paper to see what’s inside. On his lap now rests two plane tickets to Mexico.

            “I know you miss Antonio, Carla, and Gemma… so I thought I would get you a couple tickets to go visit them. You can take whoever you like, and they’re good for the entire next year,” Ian explains wholeheartedly.

            Mickey begins to feel relatively choked up. He had no idea Ian payed that much attention to him. How any times had he mentioned Mexico when he was piss drunk and too out of it to focus on what he was saying? “Thanks, man. That means a lot.”

            Ian nods and now it’s time for him to open his gifts. Choosing one at random, Ian selects Mandy’s and grabs the small box from the coffee table. Inside of it is a FOB to a Jeep nestled in red and green tissue paper. He stares at it curiously, unsure of what to make of it.

            “Don’t get your hopes up, it’s nothing too fancy. I figured it was about time you got a car considering you sold your last one,” Mandy explains with a smile.

            “Jeez, Mandy. This had to have cost you a fortune,” Ian says appreciatively.

            “It costs a little lest when you used to fuck the guy who sells them. Besides, Emma and I pulled some strings. It’ll get you to where you need to go,” she says. "Do me a favor and don't wreck it." 

            Moving on, Ian peels back the paper on Mickey’s gift. Truth be told, Mickey had no idea what to get Ian. He spent hours upon hours at store looking for something suitable before he ultimately decided on a new laptop because the one Ian has been using around the house weighs nearly ten pounds and barely works anymore.

            “Holy shit, Mickey. Thanks.”

            Awkwardly, Mickey nods and tips his beer towards him. “It’s not as nice as a car, but I figured you deserved one that weighed less than a stack of fucking bricks.”

            Smiling, Ian sets the laptop back at the coffee table and he peers out the window to see that more snow has begun to fall. Casually, he flops down on the couch and throws his arm around Mickey’s shoulders and for once, he does not protest the contact. Neither of them knows if they will truly ever be able to pay off Frank’s drug dealers, but none of that matters now. Tonight, they are together and they’re going to make it the best fucking Christmas either of them has ever experienced because that’s all they know how to do. They can party like it’s their last night on earth, but in the end… all they have is each other.

            And so, when they stir awake in each other’s arms the next morning wearing nothing more than their sweatpants and socks, no questions are asked. Ian stares in at the ceiling of the living room as the fire crackles beside him and he’s happy. Mandy is asleep on the couch behind him and the puppy they got her, newly renamed as Apollo, sleeps in her arms. He knows this is the calm before the storm. How they are going to raise enough money to make it to the next year is lost to him, but he oddly cannot bring himself to care. It’s way too early for any sensible person to be awake. Though, one look on Mickey’s peaceful, sleeping face makes it all worth it. Everything Ian has done to change has been for him. Everything he is willing to do is for him. He would run to all ends of the earth for Mickey and while he remains not his, he couldn’t be happier than he is right in this moment.

            Sure, there are things to consider as their future creeps up on them. Eventually, this happy little life they have built in this apartment will come crumbling down and they will have to face the hard truths of reality. This bubble is only temporary and Ian knows it. He has no idea where life will take him. He only knows that, if he should be lucky enough, he will have Mickey and Mandy by his side. Deep down, he hopes his siblings will be right there too, but he knows what kind of damage he has caused. Either way, his life is moving forward. There is no way to stop time and there certainly is no way to go back and correct his mistakes. However, no matter how impossible it is to freeze time, it feels as if the world is at a standstill in this very moment and he could live in it forever.

            “Merry Christmas, Mickey…” He whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not too happy with this chapter. I have worked it over to many times that I have started to hate it. However, the next chapter is much better. I'm kinda looking at this like episodes in a season. Some episodes are better than others, just as some chapters are better than other chapters. I do like the last couple paragraphs of the chapter, though. 
> 
> Sorry I have absent for so long. Things have been really busy on my end. I'll have some free time in December after my first term of college ends which means I'll be able to upload and write more frequently. Honestly, I lost my drive for this story even though it's nearly complete, but I'm working on getting back into it. Thank you so much to those who are reading. I'll be back in a couple of minutes with the next chapter to make up for my absence. :)
> 
> As always, I apologize for typos. I'm really fucking tired right now.


	18. What Must be Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stirring up a rather shitty idea that could save them from the drug dealers, Mickey and Ian convince the people in their lives to help out.

Mickey’s head is going to explode.

             He lies awake in the middle of the night with an arm tucked under his head and a cigarette in his mouth. When Christmas passed and Frank was finally coherent enough to talk, Lip sat him down and interrogated him about the guys who showed up and thrashed the Gallagher house. It was discovered then that Frank stole and sold a bunch of cocaine from them by pretending to be their business partner –and nobody knows how he managed to pull it off for as long as he did. What Frank didn’t do was hide his identity so they couldn’t find them because he’s a fucking idiot. Now, they have a couple of _days_ to scrounge up what money they can because everyone knows by now that Frank won’t be able to provide anything more than a couple bucks. It’s up to them once again.

            Through what little money everybody was willing to contribute, they got the initial fifteen thousand down to ten thousand. Mickey has no idea how they’re going to pull this off. Drug dealers are no joke, he knows because his family frequently runs drugs, and if they’re ballsy enough to trash a house, they’re ballsy enough to be good on their word and slaughter the Gallagher family and their friends. It’s stressing him out to even think about it. There are kids and innocent lives in hanging in the balance and that is something he is not willing to risk.

            Grumbling, he gets out of bed and walks down the hallway to the laundry room. Mandy has been doing the laundry, but she has been moving at a slow enough pace that could be compared to a sloth and he is out of sweaters to wear. He quickly grabs some of his stuff and throws it into the washer to get a load started. As he leaves, something glittery in the hamper catches his eyes. Taking two steps back, he leans down and digs around for the source of the glitter. With his finger, he hooks out the pair of Christmas themed booty shorts that Ian wore during the pride event. Thinking back on that night makes him smile. Ian looks so fucking good and somehow, the memory of that brings about a really stupid, but oddly brilliant idea into his head. For as dumb as it is, it could actually be the missing puzzle piece that they all need to pull the drug dealer situation off. After extinguishing his cigarette, he shuffles down the hallway and enters into Ian’s room without knocking and he does not give a fuck about what time it is.

            “Ian, hey. Wake up, baby sloth,” Mickey says as he nudges Ian softly.

            Ian grumbles and tries to escape deeper into his blankets and pillows, but Mickey is not having it. To prevent Ian from hiding, he pulls back the blanket and he lightly starts patting Ian’s face until he cracks his eyes up with the means to kill.

            “What the _hell_ do you want?” He snaps tiredly.

            Mickey holds up the shorts and Ian becomes severely confused. “What if we staged an event to get the money we need to pay off Frank’s drug dealers?”

            Ian yawns as he props himself up on his elbows and looks at the sparkly Christmas shorts in the darkness of his room. “You do realize I only dance when I’m hurting for cash, right?”

            Mickey sling shots the shorts at Ian’s head and he is deeply satisfied when they land on his head. “Yeah, no shit. Nobody said you had to dance. Do you think an event like that could work? We made a lot of bank just from tips.”

            “No, I’ll dance, Mick… Uh, yeah. I think we could make enough money to put a pretty big dent in what Frank owes,” Ian agrees groggily as he throws the shorts across his room.

            “Great. We’ll start setting up tomorrow. We can host it at the Alibi for New Year’s Eve. I can clear it with Kev,” Mickey says enthusiastically.

            Ian grunts and looks at Mickey with mild concern. “Have you slept? It’s like three in the fucking morning, Mickey.”

            Mickey runs a hand down his face as he shakes his head. “No, I haven’t. Kenyatta’s muffled screaming was keeping me up and then I started stressing about the money shit. Then I went to do some laundry and saw your shorts in the hamper,” he replies honestly.

            Ian scoots over in his bed and pats the spot next to him with his eyes closed as he is too tired to keep them open. “Climb in. You sleep better when you sleep in the same bed as me.”

            Mickey scoffs and slides into the open spot happily because it’s entirely too cold the apartment for his liking. “The fuck I do,” he disagrees.

            “Just keep telling yourself that…” Ian mumbles as he slips back into sleep.

            For a little while longer, Mickey lies in his ex-boyfriend’s bed completely wide awake. The smarter choice would have been to go back to his own room and sleep in his own bed. Instead, he caved without thinking and now he can enjoy how nice it is to hear Ian’s light snores and to feel the heat that is coming off of him. Scooting over slightly, Mickey slides until their shoulders are touching and he then rolls onto his side. Ian’s sleeping form is ridiculously peaceful. He almost feels bad for waking him up and he probably would have had the issue not been so prevalent.

            He slowly opens his eyes and breathes in deeply as a rare happiness flows through him. There's an arm securely wrapped around his middle and a set of legs that have seemed to become tangled with his own. A soft smile spreads on his lips when he thinks back to the previous night. He was planning on pulling an all-nighter until Ian offered him a spot in his bed. He was tempted to decline, but he knew he needed the sleep and now, as he lies here, he knows it was the best decision to stay. He should get up now to get planning the event, but he can lie in happiness for a little while longer. He deserves that much and if it changes when Ian wakes up, he'll be okay with it.

            Twisting around slowly to make sure he does not disturb Ian's sleep, Mickey scoots over to bring himself closer to Ian. He missed being able to do this. In fact, he would dream of mornings like this when he was stuck sleeping on the streets of strange and foreign places. The thought of a warm body, Ian’s specifically, got him through the nights where he struggled the most. Mickey sighs softly and although one of his arms has gone numb, he wraps both around Ian and hugs the ginger boy close to his body. It's particularly cold this morning and Ian is naturally always warm... He is of course going to abuse this power while he has it.

            "It is wrong to be so content when there's a threat on my life?" Ian mumbles quietly against Mickey's collarbone.

            “Not in this house,” Mickey says with a laugh. “We should get up, though. We have a busy day ahead of us.”

            "Kill joy. It's almost New Year’s. This is me celebrating in advanced like a somewhat normal human being," Ian complains as he draws back.

            Mickey grins and he playfully pushes Ian away from him to make a point. "And it'll be your last if we don't get enough money rounded up to pay off the drug dealers."

            Ian groans with false despair as he rolls off the bed and gets up to his feet. "You're no fun," He whines, although the grin on his face makes it a little less than believable.

            Mickey sits up and swings his legs off the bed to begin the process of waking up. He absolutely hates waking up early. "Oh, I'm plenty of fun and we can have all the fun we want... as soon as we get ten-thousand dollars together." 

            "Shit..." Ian mumbles as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Okay. I'm gonna go get dressed and then I'm gonna see how much money I still have left over from the first pride night and what I can spare from work. I think I have some extra money somewhere. I’m gonna be broke as fuck, Mick. I can’t tap into my savings account. I just can’t.”

            "I’m just as broke as you are. I'll track down Kev and see what he says about it. I’m pretty sure he’ll be fine with it considering the guy has kids he wants to protect," Mickey says.

            Ian then leaves the room with urgency and when the bedroom door closes, Mickey can safely say that he feels slightly more confident about this than he did last night. It's a long shot that they will be able to do this, but Mickey won't give up. Deciding to skip the shower, Mickey runs back to his room and throws on some clothes. He then grabs his keys, phone, and wallet and flies out the door. He hates to bring this crap up so early in the morning, but Kev is the bar owner and if they’re going to be holding a large and expensive event there, it’s best to ask him about it first.

            Rushing, to get to where he needs to, Mickey essentially runs on the slick sidewalks even though he knows he needs to be careful on the ice. He's carrying a cluster of different emotions on his shoulders on top of everything else. Not only is his mind clogged with all of the small moments that keeping happening with Ian, which has him confused, there's the internal fear of not getting all the money before the deadline. However they manage to pull this off with be a miracle, but he is in this for the long run. He has worked plenty of cons before and if he has to work one more to break free of the life he lives, he's more than happy to do so.

            At Kev’s house, Mickey takes the porch steps two at a time and loudly knocks on the door. In retrospect, he probably should have knocked lighter for the sake of the kids, but he's too stressed to care. Thankfully, it's Kev who answers the door and not Veronica. It's already going too hard to explain why he's paying his boss a morning visit.

            "Mickey! Merry belated Christmas. What's going on? Don't get me wrong, but you're not exactly the kind of person I expected to find on my doorstep." Kev questions.

            "Can I talk to you for a second? Ian and I came up with a plan to pay off the drug dealers." Mickey asks quietly in fear of Veronica or the kids hearing.

            Kev looks behind him before stepping out on the porch and closing the door. Mickey, having no idea of where to start, decides to start from the beginning. Kev seems to understand it all, but bringing up the event they need hold throws him through a loop because not only is it short notice, it's also supposed to be held on one of Alibi's busiest nights. Not to mention the amount of money that needs to be raised still when everybody, Including Kev, gave all they could.

            "Holy shit," Kev blurts as he ogles at Mickey. "Yeah, Mick. We'll do the event and I'll get up there and I’ll dance if it'll help roll in the bank. I'll talk to Veronica. I think I can sell some of her jewelry if it'll help?"

            Mickey shakes his head because he can already how bad of an idea that is. "Nah, man. Veronica will kill you if you do that. Ian, Mandy, and I will handle the rest of it. Just make sure you spread the news and get as many people to come as possible."

            "You got it."

            "Ian, what the fuck? You’re not giving me a whole lot of time here."

            Lip stares at his younger brother and Ian stares right back at him. "I know, Lip. What can you do? It’s only a matter of time before those assholes show up again," he attempts desperately. “Mickey’s plan will work, but only if we get enough people there. I’ll talk to Debbie about spreading the word later, but I just really need your help.”  

            Lip sighs and runs a hand through his hair as tidal wave of stress washes over him once again. "There's a group of kids I know at college who would be willing to come. I'll call them and see if they can invite the Queer board and their friends. We just have to make sure that most of the money goes to our dancers and not the others otherwise we'll lose proceed. You do realize this is incredibly fucked up, don't you?"

            Ian nods knowingly. "Yeah, well. I'm a Gallagher living with two Milkovich kids. If something bad didn’t happen there, it was for sure going to happen here."

            "I knew letting Frank live this long was going to create something nasty," Lip mutters mostly to himself as a reminder.

            "To be fair, if we don’t get the cash, Frank dies first," Ian jokes.

            Lip shrugs. "Alright, yeah. You have a point."

            Suddenly, from behind Ian, there's another addition to the conversation. "What's going on? What event are you talking about?" Fiona asks.

            "Wow. Eavesdrop much?" Lip asks with a raised eyebrow.

            Fiona still has no idea what’s going on. As far as she knows, the house was trashed by Frank in a drunken rage over a twenty dollar bill he lost in a bet. None of the kids have dared told her about the money that is owed. Nobody wanted to bother her with the issue when her relationship is strained with Ian and she’s supposed to be planning a wedding with her crazy once-upon-a-time ex turned fiancé.

            "Ian doesn’t come by all that often anymore and as soon as he showed up, you two disappeared. I got curious and caught the butt end of the conversation," Fiona argues and, unfortunately, Lip cannot argue further. She has a point.

            "It's nothing. There's going to be another pride event at the Alibi tomorrow," Ian explains without making eye contact.

            Fiona tilts her head to the side in confusion. "Already? Wasn't there one not too long ago? How many do you kids need?"

            Somehow, Fiona's words jog something in Ian's memory and he dashes out of the room. He knows the perfect person to get in contact with if they’re looking for people to support the event and although it's going to be tricky, he believes it can be pulled it off with the right amount of luck and, hopefully, some lingering kindness.

            "Ian, wait! Where are you going?" Fiona calls from the top of the stairs as she races down after her little brother.

            "I'm kind of busy, Fiona," he calls back as he pulls out his phone.

 

> **To Mickey:  
> ** **I have an idea, but it's going to suck.**

            "Ian, please. You never came home for Christmas. We missed you," Fiona tries again.

            Ian pauses by the backdoor and he turns around just long enough to say one last thing to his sister. "There are slightly more pressing matters going on right now, Fiona. Tending to the family is not my priority at the moment. Get off my back. I’m sorry I missed Christmas. I’ll be around more soon,” he says irritably.

            Ian did not mean to come off so rude, but he needs to run down to the club before too long and he cannot waste any more time here and as he flies out the backdoor, he only barely catches Debbie's disappointed face at the kitchen table. He only said what he did to get Fiona to stop following him. Family is of course his priority when he’s busy running around trying to get the money to save them all.

> **From Mickey:  
> ** **Suck for me or suck for you?**
> 
> **To Mickey:  
>  It can suck for you if you want it to ;)**
> 
> **From Mickey:  
> ** **:|**
> 
> **To Mickey:  
> ** **Mostly for you. I need you to go talk to Trevor.  
> ** **My ex.  He works with LGBTQ kids and he can  
> ** **get lots of them to come to the event. Just tell him  
> ** **that they can raise their own money and help the cause  
> ** **IF they want. It’ll be good for the kids.**
> 
> **From Mickey:  
> ** **You fucking hate me.**

            Ian is suddenly stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He spins around to see Debbie standing there with a glum expression on her face.

            “I know you guys are fighting and I know you’re living with Mickey now, but we miss you. Franny keeps asking about where you are,” she says sadly.

            Sudden pangs of guilt begin to bounce their way around Ian’s mind. He feels incredibly guilty because he promised that moving out wouldn’t put a strain on their relationship. “I know Debs and I’m sorry. I’ll try to be around more, but you know what we’re all up too… I gotta get stuff handled so the event will work.”

            “I know. I heard you and Lip talking before I went downstairs. I’ll spread the word about it around town, but only if you promise to visit once in a while,” she barters.

            Ian nods and leans forward to give her a hug. “I promise. I gotta go, though.”

            Nodding, Debbie lets him go and Ian takes off in a run. At least now he feels a little better about his family and he can get done what he needs to get done.

            Mickey awkwardly stands in front of the desk with his arms crossed. This is not exactly what he wanted to do with his time today, but he has to admit… Ian had a great idea. He just hates that this idea was thrust upon him when he is probably the least qualified person to handle this kind of thing. Not to mention, this is Ian’s ex-boyfriend of all people.

            "So let me get this straight... You want me to send a bunch of my kids to a false pride event so you and your family can take people's money to pay off a couple of drug dealers Frank Gallagher pissed off?" Trevor asks, looking for clarification.

            Mickey sighs and although he's extremely tense standing in front of the guy Ian once dated, he finds it within himself to defrost and get his point across. "The event is not fake. Everybody will be raising their own money, only everybody on my side will be raising the money to pay off the guy's Frank stole from. Everybody else will donate their money to your foundation. It's a win/win situation and everybody gets live for another fuckin’ year."

            Trevor is extremely doubtful of the entire situation. Not to mention he spent more than enough time with the Gallagher family to know what kind of trouble they get into and his hatred for Mickey does not go completely unjustified. "I need more than that. What do my kids get out of it? So far this sounds like a shitty excuse to benefit your family only."

            Unsure of what else to say because the idea was only hatched last night, Mickey starts thinking on his feet. "Your kids will be around people just like them from all over town. They can raise money doing whatever the fuck they want and if they chose to help us, great. If not, whatever. Either way, they're getting exposure and from what Ian tells me, relationships are extremely important for these kids. It'll be good for them."

            Mickey holds his breath as Trevor thinks. If he agrees, this will be a huge boost and Mickey will forever be in his debt. If not, they are out of options and they will have to work with what they got and honestly, there’s not much left to work with.

            "Alright, fine. I'll see who wants to go, I'll explain the situation... and I'll let them make their own choices. But I am not doing this for you. I am doing this strictly for Ian's sake," Trevor agrees. “Besides, I wanna know if you guys can actually pull this off.”

            "Thank you. I'll let Ian know," Mickey says. As soon as he is free to go, he is scurrying out of the facility because being in a room with Ian's ex for that long made his skin crawl. He's sure Trevor is a good guy and he holds nothing against him, but it's too much awkwardness to deal with for one day. 

> **To Ian:  
> ** **Trevor agreed. I'm all done on my end.  
> ** **What about you?**
> 
> **From Ian:  
> ** **My friends from the club said they'd help.  
> ** **Do you think we can do this?**
> 
> **To Ian:  
> ** **I don't know. Meet back at the apartment?**
> 
> **From Ian:  
> ** **Yeah. We'll see where Mandy is on all of this.  
> ** **She apparently has some kind of huge plan.**

            Mickey shoves his phone into his back pocket and although this is all last minute and will probably be a very close call, he's feeling good about it. It could be the infection that is the New Year spirit that is running through his veins, but he doesn’t care. When all of the money is payed back, only the Kenyatta problem will remain and that will be a simple piece of cake.

 

            “So we’re good to go then?” Mickey asks.

            Mandy nods eagerly and holds up the ticket stub. “All he wanted is a blow job and a picture of my boobs. Only, Emma was smart and took a picture of some boobs from a Playboy magazine. We’ll have a professional stage set up outside, they’ll close the street off, and there will be outdoor heaters so nobody goes home with frozen balls or tits. On top of it all, he’s going to do some speedy advertising for us,” she says cheerfully.

            Mickey gives a thumbs up as he saunters back to his room to change into something more comfortable, but the fact that Ian is sitting on his bed with a picture in his hands has him freezing in the doorway. He knows what picture that is and in all the time he has spent with Ian, he had mostly forgotten about it until now.

            “We were so happy back then. This was before all of the shit hit the fan, you know?” Ian reminisces in a hushed voice.

            Mickey awkwardly closes the door and walks to his dresser for the sweatpants he initially came in here for. “That’s part of the reason why I kept that picture with me. It was a subtle reminder. We crashed and burned, Ian. It was brutal,” Mickey says in return.

            Ian watches Mickey as he changes from his jeans to his sweatpants. Watching Mickey wind down is something he could watch forever. “Does that really have to be the ending?”

            Mickey turns around with furrowed eyebrows. “You lost me.”

            Ian sets the image on the nightstand to get it out of the way. “Come on, Mickey. Who are we kidding? We were never meant to be friends.”

            Unsure of what Ian is implying, Mickey keeps his mouth shut. Ian scoots until he is at the edge of the bed and he looks at Mickey with an emotion he has not seen for a long time. “We’ve been running around for the past couples months try to pretend that we don’t want each other. Don’t you think it’s time we stop acting like kids?”

            Mickey leans against the dresser with a concerned look on his face. “Ian, what the hell are you talking about?”  
  
            “I’m talking about us, Mickey. We’re not meant to be friends because we’re meant to be more. We always have and we never had a real shot before,” Ian replies.

            Mickey’s heart is pounding against his chest.  "I-Ian... We can't."

            "Why not? Huh? Give me one good reason why we can't, Mickey. I'm all ears," Ian urges, now standing. He has never felt more hopeful.

            He cannot think clearly. He knows he should tell Ian no, but he's so tired of fighting. He wants to cave in and let his emotions go after holding onto them for so long. "I took that photo with me to Mexico because that was from the night you told me you loved me. When I came back, I swore to keep myself away from you. Then you moved in and all this shit has been happening... Your house was the first house I went to when I came back, Ian."

            "Then what are we waiting for?" Ian presses.

            Before either one of them can say anything more on the topic that has been burning a hole in both of their minds, Mandy suddenly bursts through the door with an ice pack on her cheek.

            “We need to figure out this Kenyatta shit,” she says.

            And that’s around the time Mickey decides he’s going to rip his hair out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys.   
> I'm not sure when I'll be back simply because I have finals coming up, but I'll be back eventually. The next few chapters will be good ones. Plenty of angst. Plenty of drama. ;)
> 
> As always, I apologize for typos.


	19. Who Told Fiona?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In an attempt to raise enough money to pay off the drug dealers, Mickey and Ian throw another pride event. However, although everything seems to be going relatively well all things considered, somebody told Fiona about what is happening.

“What is he doing back?”

            Ian looks up at Mickey, who stands at the left entrance to the kitchen with an empty mug and nothing on but his boxers. “Emma resurfaced,” Ian says blandly.

            Alfred affectionately rubs himself on Ian’s shoulder as Ian attempts to drink his coffee. Mickey is a little put off by the bird, but Alfred has been around enough that he’s starting not to care about his presence. “Where’s Mandy?” He asks as he serves himself some coffee.

            “She’s in her room with Emma. They’re discussing the Kenyatta issue,” Ian says simply.

            Mickey shrugs and takes a hearty drink from his mug. “I gotta go help Kev set up. This event is like… twice the size of the other one to accommodate all of the New Year’s party drinkers. I think people from the other side of town are coming too. I have no fuckin’ clue what Kev said to get them to come, but they're coming,” he explains tiredly. “Part of it may be because of that Vagina Safe shit he has been campaigning.”

            Ian moves from the breakfast bar to drop his mug into the sink. “Are you bar tending tonight?” He asks curiously.

            “Kind of. Kev is setting up an outside bar thing that he wants me to tend in case the one inside gets too busy. And I know it fuckin’ will,” Mickey explains.

            Ian yawns and moves to invade Mickey’s personal space. “So, you’ll be watching me dance tonight, then?” He questions with a coy grin on his lips.

            Mickey sets his mug down safely behind him and looks up at the man that is very much crowding him. “I might. Why? You think I’m gonna get jealous?”

            Ian scoffs and wraps his arms around Mickey’s waist to pull him in closer. “I _know_ you’ll be jealous. You always are,” he points out.

            Feeling a little braver than usual, Mickey grins and loosely rests his hands on Ian’s waist. “Say, what, uh, happened to this friends shit? You seem to be crossing a line or two, Gallagher.”

            Ian draws back with a large grin. “Right. Friends. That’s what we agreed to do.”

            Bringing his fist up, Mickey playfully punches Ian’s arm. “You know it’s for the best, tough guy. Got too much shit in our way.”

            Out of the corner of his eye, Mickey sees Emma standing at the right entrance of the kitchen. He draws back from the boy he would very much like to attack right now to give her an annoyed look. “Is there a reason why you’re being a fuckin’ creep?”   
  
            Emma smiles nervously before gesturing to Ian. “I just came to snag the ginger. Mandy needs to ask him a few questions in regards to Kenyatta.”

            Mickey rolls his eyes and he wants to say something snarky, but he eats his words when he looks back at Ian who surprises him with a touch to his hip. “Go help Kev. We’ll see each other later tonight,” he urges.

            Agreeing, Mickey exits the kitchen and goes down the left hallway to his room. Judging by the fact that it’s already snowing, he assumes it’s going to be cold today. To compensate, the dresses warmly with his favorite sweater and he manages to remember to grab the gloves he finally bought for himself. He wanted to say goodbye to Ian as he put his boots on, but it seems that Ian has already been taken by Emma and Mandy. Sighing, he leaves the apartment and is pissed to see the amount of snow on the ground.

            “Fuckin’ come on with this bullshit…” He complains bitterly.

            On the way to the bar, Mickey thinks back to the previous night. He wishes they were not interrupted because all he could think about last night was how good it was going to feel to have Ian finally inside of him again. In fact, just thinking about it now is getting him half hard already. He misses being able to kiss, touch, and hug Ian whenever he felt like it. They were so close to giving up the whole friends act, but now they’re right back to where they started. It’s bullshit. They’re not boyfriends, they’re barely passing as friends… It’s pissing him off, but he continues to bite it back. There’s still plenty of time to sort all of this out before the lines get too blurred.

            Upon coming to the bar, Mickey is disturbed by the fact his brother is amongst some of the other people are running around to get decorations set up and the stage built. He has not seen Iggy for a long time and he’s not even sure if Mandy told him he’s back.

            “Iggy!” Mickey calls over the loud sounds of drills and hammers.

            The other Milkovich pauses in his tracks with two crates in his hand. “Mickey? What the hell are you doing here?”

            “Didn’t Mandy tell you? They tossed my case, man. I came home like two months ago. Where the hell have you been?” Mickey questions as he takes one of the heavy crates.

            Iggy gestures with his head for Mickey to follow, so he does. “I haven’t heard a damn thing. When you skipped town, we all kind of went our separate ways. There was nothing holding us together anymore. You were kind of the glue, man,” he says.

            Mickey has never really thought of himself like that in the eyes of his family and it’s weirding him out to hear his brother say it. “Alright… We’ll catch up later. I gotta go inside and see what Kev needs me to do.”

            Setting down the crate where Iggy set his, Mickey turns and walks towards the bar. There are a few more people inside that Mickey recognizes as regular customers and Kev is at the counter barking orders in the most Kev way possible.

            “No, come on, man! Please set that shit down lightly. That’s glass. Please?” He yells over the commotion to somebody across the bar.

            Mickey walks up to the counter and he gives Kev a pointed look. “Where the hell did you get the cavalry from?” He asks. “You even got my brother out there.”

            “Half the people here are LGBTQ+, so it was easy to convince them. The other half were bribed by Veronica and her boobs,” Kev says simply.

            Mickey laughs at the concept of his brother getting wrangled in to help out because Veronica showed a little skin. “Alright, so what do you need me to do?”

 

            “We can’t keep him here. He’s gonna start smelling,” Mandy says.

            Ian continues to stare at Kenyatta as he works out a plan in his head. Kenyatta fights against the restraints that keep him tied to the chair violently and Ian knows that he did not have the blindfold he would be shooting lasers out of his eyes. “We have the event tonight. We can’t do anything until that money is paid off,” he reminds her.

            Emma strokes Alfred’s feathers gently on the edge of Mandy’s bed. “I can get a couple sedatives from my mom. We’ll drug him so he’s not screaming all night. We’ll just hold him until we have a real plan.”

            Ian weighs the plan before ultimately deciding it’s the best one they’ve got at the moment. “That’ll work for now. Getting rid of him is the hard part. We can’t necessarily let him go. He’ll just rat us out to the cops.”

            Mandy plops down on her bed beside Emma, which disturbs Alfred’s nap. “Maybe we can pay him off so he’ll keep his mouth shut?”

            Ian makes a face of disapproval. “With what money? We’re giving up every penny we have to pay of Frank’s drug dealers.”

            “Hey, it doesn’t matter right now. Ian, you have to go talk to your ex about his kids. Mandy, you need to make sure that guy is good on his word about the outdoor heaters and shit or else this event is going to fall apart and we’re all gonna wind up dead,” Emma urges.

            “Yeah, yeah. I’m going. Text me updates on the mammoth in the closet, will you?” Ian says as he rushes out of the room.

            Seeing Trevor is not exactly something Ian had in mind for this week, but it needs to be done. He exits the apartment complex and contemplates on taking the car. It’s snowing and the roads are slick with ice and Ian sees no cars on the road. He decides against it because he cannot risk getting stuck somewhere on a night as important as this one or, even worse, getting into a wreck. Turning on his heel, he walks down the sidewalk until he reaches the run-down coffee shop that he’s supposed to be meeting Trevor in.

            There is a couple of people inside and one family with a baby. The barista smiles at him and Ian waves back to be kind. At a table in the corner beside the front window is Trevor with a cup of coffee and a to-go cup of coffee waiting for Ian.

            “Haven’t seen you for a while,” Ian comments as he sits in the open spot in front of Trevor and grasps the cup between his hands.

            “We went down different paths,” Trevor says calmly. “How are you, Ian?”

            Ian shrugs his shoulders. “I’m doing pretty good. You know… event is tonight so we’re all running around to make sure it doesn’t fall apart before night falls.”

            Trevor smiles slightly as he watches Ian speak. “You seem happier… What changed?” He asks in reference to his break and Ian almost hates him for it.

            He and Trevor were already broken up when Ian went on his downward spiral. Though, when Ian was hospitalized for three days on unnecessary suicide watch, Trevor took it upon himself to visit Ian even though it was unwanted. Trevor was never able to balance Ian’s condition, so it was upsetting to see him at the hospital. Ian is not entirely sure why Lip let him come. He only assumes that Lip was trying to provide him with a friendly face because the one he really wanted to see was in another country on the run.

            “Uh…” Ian starts with a nervous laugh. “I moved out and… and Mickey came back.”

            Trevor adjusts in his seat uncomfortably. Neither of them really got past the dent Ian put on their relationship by nearly giving up everything to go to Mexico with Mickey.

            “Right… So, the kids and I will be there tonight. Most of them wanted to help you out because you left a pretty good mark on them… Even after all that Gay Jesus shit,” Trevor says as he uneasily changes the topic.

            Ian perks up in surprise. “Oh, good. That’s fantastic. There will be plenty of stations for them to set up their stuff and we’re offering plenty of snacks.”  
            Trevor nods and finishes off the last of his coffee. “I’ll see you tonight, Ian,” he says as he gets up to leave.

            Ian watches him go from his spot and although things ended horribly for them, he still feels sorry for how it turned out. Sighing, he pulls his phone to text Mickey.    

> **To Mickey:  
> ** **Trevor and the kids will be there.**
> 
> **From Mikey:  
> ** **Good.** **I’m losing my fucking mind  
>  over here. **

            Ian raises an eyebrow with mild concern. It’s not all that hard to make Mickey lose his shit, but Ian also knows what exactly is at stake today.

> **To Mickey:  
> ** **What’s going on?  
> ** **  
> ** **From Mickey:  
> ** **First off, my brother is here. Secondly,  
> ** **Kev is an idiot. Thirdly, Kev put me in charge  
> ** **of getting the outside decorated. I dont fucking  
> ** **handle idiots well**

            Ian laughs and grabs his coffee to head out into the snow.

> **To Mickey:  
> ** **I have to swing by the club to pick up some outfits.  
> ** **I’ll be there soon. Try not to kill anyone until then?**
> 
> **From Mickey:  
> ** **Killing people will land me in jail again.  
> ** **Instead, I’m gonna threaten them and send  
> ** **People to kill them if they choose to fucking  
> ** **ignore me again.**

 

            “¿Estás jodidamente bromeando? Put the fucking box in the corner!”

            Kev pokes his head out from the moving truck in confusion. “Did you just yell at him in Spanish?” He asks.

            Mickey turns around to address the question. “Yeah, Kev. I speak fucking Spanish.”

            “Whoa, did you learn that shit in Mexico?” He asks as he hops down with a box full of balloons and ribbons.

            “Yeah, I learned it in fuckin’ Mexico. I was there for four years,” Mickey snaps. Shaking his head, he returns to pushing boxes around and setting up the canopies. Mandy turns up with moving truck full of the outdoor heaters and the stage parts and as she hops out, she takes a moment to appreciate how much work is going into this.

            “Isn’t it amazing how much a few blow jobs can get you?” She asks her brother as she opens the back of the truck for Kev.

            Mickey tosses a bag of balloons at Iggy as he passes by only for Iggy to miss the throw. Mickey rolls his eyes in disappointment. “No offense, Mandy, but I really don’t want to hear about the guys you had to suck off to get this shit. It’s great, but keep the details to yourself.” Mickey snaps as he starts hauling the stage pieces from the truck.

            Mandy flips her brother off in anger. She feels he should be more appreciative of what she did to get things done. “Without me, none of this would be here!” She yells at him.

            “And we all thank you for your donation to the cause, Mandy. May the dicks you suck benefit you for the many years to come,” Kev praises as he walks out of the truck with a large stage piece over his head.

            Mandy rolls her eyes and storms off to the bar while Mickey gives a hammer to his brother. “You need to make sure that the stage does not wobble or collapse. There are gonna be eight guys up there and about two to three girls and guys on the small stages. If Ian gets hurt because you didn’t tighten the bolts enough, I’m gonna shove that hammer up your ass,” he warns.

            Iggy nods with slight fear and scurries off. Mickey then grabs a snow shovel to start paving the way to the bar and the stages. He is thankful Mandy was able to get all of this for them because if she didn’t, the dancers would be on wooden boxes and the event would be half the size. This event went from a South Side trash show to premium entertainment because of her.

            “Hey, Mickey, Lip wants to know where you want the pride flags,” Carl says from behind.

            Mickey turns around to see Carl Gallagher covered in numerous flags as if they were just thrown onto him as if he was a coat rack. “Take them inside to Kev. He’ll know what to do.”

            Carl nods and up comes Debbie with her kids in her arms. “Do you know where Ian is? Fiona is looking for him.”

            “No and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you because all Fiona is gonna do is pry about what we’re all doing. Take the kid inside before you freeze her toes off, will you? She can have some of the hot chocolate,” Mickey suggests. “And I think Veronica made cookies if you want to sneak her some.”

            Just as Mickey thinks he caught a second of peace, up comes a face he has not seen for several years. Even when he was around, they never had many encounters. “Steve, er… Jimmy? Jimmy-Steve!”

            Jimmy waves and picks up another shovel to help Mickey out. “I pried some answers out of Lip. Frank owes money to drug dealers, eh?”

            Mickey laughs nervously and stabs the shovel into the snow. “Yeah. He’s an idiot. Ian and I got called over to help clean up the mess and it was fuckin’ awful.”

            “Talking about me?” Ian accuses playfully as he turns up with a box full of short shorts and various props for tonight.

            Mickey drops his shovel and takes the box from Ian. “There you are. I was starting to wonder if they killed you or something.”

            Ian laughs and waves to Jimmy as he continues to shovel. “Looks like everybody is here to set up,” he comments.

            “Everybody but Fiona,” Jimmy comments knowingly.

            “That’s because if Fiona knew what we are doing, she’d blow a gasket. It’s best if she stays in the dark about this,” Ian replies with a shrug.

            Mickey scoffs and shifts the weight of the box in his arms. “That’s assuming she never finds out. We still have to wait for these madre follando dipshits to pop up so we can pay them.”

            A quizzical expression appears on Ian’s face as he thinks over what Mickey said. “Did you just speak Spanish?” He questions.

            “He’s been doing that all day,” Kev says in passing.

            “I was in Mexico for four fucking years! Why is this so surprising?” Mickey calls out as he storms off. He’ll speak all the damn Spanish he wants.

            Night time came before they were ready for it. Mickey stands outside of the bathroom with his arms crossed as people swarm back and forth between the activates inside and the main attractions outside. Ian pokes his head outside of the bathroom to make sure Mikey is still keeping watch as he squeezes himself into a pair of light blue metallic spandex short shorts. Mickey looks over his shoulder to see Ian struggling with the door half open and before anyone can peak inside, he walks right up to it.   
  
            “Aye! Unless you plan on giving everybody here a free X-Rated show, I suggest leaving the door fuckin’ closed,” he seethes in quiet whisper.

            Ian looks up with a panicked expression as he continues to do what he can to shimmy into his shorts. “Well, I was going to ask you for help because these are ridiculously tight,” he says with a strained voice.

            Mickey rolls his eyes and shuts the door behind him as he walks up to Ian and grasps the back of the shorts to assist Ian. “Why didn’t you grab a bigger size?” He complains.

            Ian jumps a little to try and get the elastic over his ass, but it’s not the source of the problem. “These fit, we just have to get them past my thighs.”

            “Okay, stop fuckin’ jumping. You’re just making your thighs flex. Just wiggle your hips a bit,” Mickey snaps.

            Through great force and more cursing from Mickey, the shorts give way and slide right up to where the need to be. Ian sighs in relief and checks himself out in the mirror. “And that’s how we do it,” he says as he puts on his shoes.

            Mickey grabs the bowtie from the rack and he helps Ian out by putting it on for him. “You look ridiculous,” he grumbles.

            Ian smiles alluringly and grabs Mickey by the belt to pull him flush against his body. “I would love to see you in one of these outfits, Milkovich.”

            Mickey scoffs and pushes Ian back in mostly false disgust. The last thing he needs is for Ian to see how hard he can easily make him. “In your fuckin’ dreams, Gallagher. My ass is too good for those tight ass shorts.”

            “You know I chose this pair because they match your eyes,” Ian points out.

            “Oh, how fuckin’ romantic. Is that what you’re gonna tell all the guys as you grind your ass up to their crotch?” Mickey complains as he throws Ian his coat.

            Ian laughs and begins to follow Mickey out of the bathroom. “Only if they pay me enough. I gotta make a few grand to make my cut.”

            Shoving past a rude girl, Mickey continues to drag Ian through the crowd by his wrist. “At least you and the other dancers are the main attraction for tonight. I have to flirt my way through my tips. _Again_. I’m gonna fucking rip my hair out.”

            Ian giggles and he throws an arm around Mickey as they walk to the bar station outside. “Please don’t. I really like your hair. Everybody is playing their part tonight. I mean… Debbie is charging fifty dollars for face painting and people are actually going for it. She’s also telling them the money is going towards hungry children and she’s using Franny as a prop… but still.”

            Mickey is actually surprised to hear that and he’s impressed by the girl’s ability to sell people cheap product for a high price. “That takes talent. Stay out of trouble, will you? The last thing I need is to beat up another asshole because he was taking advantage of you.”

            Ian presses a soft kiss to Mickey cheek to silently agree to his terms before running off, which leaves Mickey in a state of mental shock. At the sight of Ian, Kev jumps up onto the main stage with the microphone Emma was able to hook them up with. He taps on the mic to get the crowd’s attention and Mickey has to control his laughter at the sight of Kev wearing a silk robe.

            “Alright, everybody! Welcome to the Alibi’s first ever New Year’s Eve pride event! Let’s raise some cash and party until the New Year!” Kev announces. “Hit it Tommy.”

            To the left of the stage, Tommy presses play on the somewhat crappy sound system. On the beat, Kev rips away his silk robe to reveal that his is, in fact, wearing a red pair of the metallic shorts and has it matched with one of the dinky ties on a necklace. He then catches a pair of devil’s horns from Ian who joins him on the stage. Mickey laughs to himself and positions himself behind the bar to get going. He ditches his jacket on the bar stool that is meant for him to sit on and dives right into his least favorite activity on the planet.

            “What can I get you boys started with?” Mickey asks.

            The boys turn around and smile warmly at Mickey. “Give me your best Sangria,” the first boy says with a wink.

            “I’ll take a Piña Colada,” the second boy says with a laugh.

            Mickey wonders in the back of his mind why these people always order the most frou-frou drinks, but he assumes it’s because they’re young and have no real idea what they’re doing. “You got it, boys.”

            From the stage, Ian dances to the beat and laughs as Kev rips out his best moves. He had no idea Kev would actually be good at this. Out of the corner of his eye, Ian spots Fiona arriving on scene with a look of fury.

            “Oh shit,” he comments.

            “What? What’s wrong?” Kev as he turns to the crowd to show off his ass to the boys and girls who have swarmed the main stage.

            “Fiona just arrived and she looks pissed,” Ian informs over the thumping beat of the music. “Somebody fucking spilled.”

            Kev looks to his left to, in fact, see Fiona with a shameful looking Jimmy following in her wake. “God damn it, Jimmy-Steve. Somebody needs to tell the others.”

            Turning in the direction of Mickey, Ian starts dancing again in hopes of getting his attention. Thankfully, it works and Mickey looks up. Ian desperately starts pointing in the direction of Fiona, but he is not on tall enough ground to see what the hell he’s pointing at. Mickey makes a confused face as he makes and serves drinks all while trying to see what Ian is trying to warn him about. Giving up, Mikey jumps up onto the stool and immediately spots Fiona storming through the crowd.

            “Shit!” He yells. He knew she would find out one way or another and he’s willing to bet all of the money to his name that it was Jimmy who caved and told her.

            “Hey, can we get our drinks?” A girl asks curiously from the ground.

            Mickey looks down at his hand as he realizes that he’s still holding two margaritas. “Oh, right. I’m sorry,” he apologizes.

            The girls take their drinks and leave behind a hefty tip, which Mickey is surprised by. Unfortunately, he does not have enough time to hide before Fiona turns up at the bar and Mickey can practically see the flame in her eyes.

            “Mickey, what the fuck? Are you guys seriously hosting this event to pay off a couple drug dealers that Frank owes? Is that why my house was fucking trashed?” Fiona demands.

            Mickey shoots a panicked look at Jimmy, who can only provide and expression of apology. “Uh…” Mickey starts anxiously. “No hablo inglés,” he cops out.

            “The _fuck_ you do! Answer the question Mickey!” Fiona yells.

            “Lo siento, ve y pregúntale a alguien más. Estoy ocupado y no quiero morir,” Mickey continues in hopes that it will get Fiona to walk away. He wonders if this is what a child feels like who had been caught by their mother when they were doing something wrong. There’s no way he could possibly know what that feels like, his mother is long dead, but he still wonders.

            Fiona slams her hand down on the counter furiously. “Since when do you speak fucking Spanish?” She demands.

            Jimmy, in an attempt to reel Fiona in, grabs her arms and starts ushering her away from the bar. “Come on, babe. I think Mickey is having a moment.”

            Mickey, now only bothered by customers, looks back at the stage and raises both hands frantically. Ian frowns and bends down to pull up his first customer of the night. Fiona, in the meantime, tracks down Lip with Jimmy right behind her. Lip looks at his sister in surprise, having not expected to see her here after they did such a good job at keeping her away.

            “Thanks for lying to me, asshole!” Fiona yells at her younger brother as he ties balloons for the people in line.

            Lip looks at Jimmy, who gives the same look he gave to Mickey to Lip. “What the fuck, Jimmy-Steve? You told her?”

            “Yes, he told me! Fifteen-grand? Are you kidding me?” Fiona continues on.

            Freaking out, Lip gives the balloon animal he was working on to Jimmy. “Here, finish this. I need to go get something.”

            Rushing away from his station, Lip pushes through the crowd to find Mickey at the outdoor bar. “Mickey, did you know that Fiona knows?” He asks.

            “Yeah, I fuckin’ know. She was hot on my trail first,” Mickey says as he passes another round of drinks off to some boys and collects their tips. “She probably fuckin’ thinks I had something to do with the drug dealers.” Mickey’s eyes widen when he looks over Lip’s shoulder to see Fiona charging over here and without Jimmy this time. “Incoming,” he warns.

            Suddenly, Veronica emerges and judging by the look on her face, Kev told her what’s going on with Fiona and what she found out.

            “Hey, pretty lady. Let’s go get some drinks inside, okay? It’s cold out here,” Veronica says as she pushes Fiona away from the boys.

            Lip exhales with relief and Mickey returns to his job. “She cannot obstruct this night. It has barely started,” Mickey warns.

            Mickey and Lip look at each other before directing their glance to Ian, who then looks to Kev and Kev… he has an idea.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRANSLATIONS:  
> ¿Estás jodidamente bromeando? -> Are you fucking kidding?  
>  madre follando -> Mother fucking  
> No hablo inglés -> I do not speak English  
> Lo siento, ve y pregúntale a alguien más. Estoy ocupado y no quiero morir -> I'm sorry, go and ask someone else. I'm busy and I do not want to die
> 
>  
> 
> Hey guys. I'm so sorry it's taking me so long to get these chapters out. I'm so swamped with my finals. For some reason, my writing professor thought it would be a good idea to cram one month of work into two classes. Thank you to those who are being patient. It means a lot. Although the writing of this story has not gone in the way I would have liked for it to, I still enjoyed writing it. As always, I apologize for typos. Between getting two hours of sleep per night and the amount of caffeine I have to consume to get me through my day, I'm a little worn out. *Intense nervous laughter*


	20. Author Note: I'm Coming Back (Eventually)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE ABOUT ME AND THIS STORY

Hello,

Sorry to leave you all hanging like this! My life got extremely busy with college and other life speed bumps. My third term of college starts in April, but I do have intentions of getting back to this story because I have most of the chapters written out and since being away, I have come up with more ideas for the plot. This story means a lot to me and I would like to finish the damn thing. On top of everything else, I hit a really bad patch of writer's block. To ease myself back into it, I'm going to be going back to the other chapters that have already been posted to revise them and make some edits.

I've been away for a while and I have grown a lot as a writer thanks to some courses I have been taking. Uploads will be slow for a little while, but I will be finishing this. Thank you so much for your patience and the support. Life Line will be completed one way or another. See you soon!

-Jade

 

Chapter 1-4 has been revised and updated. 


End file.
